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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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«t'  IM    ill  2.2 
2.0 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MMH  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(7\f>)  873-4S03 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHtVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibllographlques 


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the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 
D 
D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I — I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I — I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Rel  6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
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une  Image  reprodulte.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
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I — I   Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

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I — I    Pages  damaged/ 

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I — I    Pagea  detached/ 

I — I    Showthrough/ 

I — I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I — I    Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I — I    Only  edition  available/ 


D 


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ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  'limed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu*  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


□ 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


B 

Stalls 
B  du 
lodifier 
r  une 
Image 


BS 


errata 
ito 


e  pelure, 
;on  d 


n 


32X 


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first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END' ). 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  platen,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
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beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


1 

2 

3 

L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g6nArositA  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  image:    ;uivantes  ont  AtA  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin.  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetA  de  l'exemplaire  filmA.  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
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derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illu4tration.  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmfts  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »•  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ".  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Las  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  Atre 
filmAs  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  11  est  filmA  A  partir 
da  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  an  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


6 


M  < 


Mto 


Ill 


ROME  AND  THE  ABBEY: 


A  TALE  OF  OONSCiaiiCK 


t    < 


THE  AUTHOR  Of  0E2ALDIHI 


C 


fVN^JkXy 


New  To«k  j 
D.  &  J.  BABLIBR  S  CO.,  31  BABOLAT  8TRBBT. 

MONTiatAl,- 
Cob.  Xotu  Damb  aho  Si.  Fbmou  XAvxas  BxBnn, 


i     ^'^^S' 


\- 


MHi 


C(  pyright, 
D.  &  J.  SADLIER  ft  CO.. 

i88s. 


* 


mi  n  I      ,11  .  10, 


.JiiiiiJW  i|.Ui..ltJ,,., 


•t*. 


EOME  AND  THE  ABBEY. 


CHAPTER  L 


Oao*  roathlbl  Mton  thajr,  with  hMrif  m  h 
Aad  ipiriU  booyant  m  thai*  itnngvn  am  i 
Now,  niMk  •paeUtora  of  tha  lUrrioK  Maaa^ 
Tkar  warn,  or  ayapatliita  muaan,  aCw. 


NuAR  the  head  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  fai  the  prettj  gar 
den  of  die  inn  at  Vevey,  in  the  evening  of  the  18th  cl 
August,  1846,  aate  an  Engli^  party ;  who,  desiring  pri. 
vaqy,  as  &r  as  circumstanoes  might  permit,  were  in  s 
group  apart  from  the  assembled  inmates  of  that  &Tour. 
ite  and  joyous  house,  and  were  gazing  in  pleased  silence 
on  the  mimic  ooem  before  them,  with  its  ebb  and  flow 
of  tide,  its  sands  and  shingles.  A  priest,  two  religious, 
and  a  female  servant  occupied  a  long  bench,  oversha* 
dowed  by  aoadas ;  while,  on  the  low  wall  which  encloses 
the  garden  from  the  road  by  the  lake,  leaned  a  beautUbl 
girl,  who,  from  her  age  and  animated  looks,  mij^t  well 
have  borne  her  part  in  the  gay  dance  now  going  forward 
in  the  principal  room :  and  sometimes  she  beat  time  and 
smiled  approval  to  the  music ;  but  it  was  more  ftmilinr 
to  her  and  had  less  power  over  her  attenticm  than  the 
new  and  lovely  scene  before  her:  and  as  she  turned 
mut^  fyiy  romid  from  time  to  time,  exclaiming,  "Qk^ 


amafmsmsasaaamssmtessismaiSi 


mmmmmmia^w^^n^^ii^^i^^''''' 


H 


f:  1 


If 


•  BOMI  AMD  TBX  ABBIT. 

what  happiness !"  no  one  could  have  deemed  that  LQto 
was  a  supposed  inoorrigibly  naughty  girl  who,  at  seven 
teen,  was  as  wilful  and  as  childish  as  she  had  been  at 
seven,  and  whose  last  onslaught  on  all  the  authorities  at 
home  hod  been  a  determination  to  go  with  her  brothers 
and  their  tutor,  to  fish  in  Norway ! 

After  a  long  pause,  Lilia  had  just  exclaimed,  '*  Oh, 
beautiful  nature !  made  by  God  alone — "  when  her  at^ 
tention  was  attracted  by  the  discussion  on  the  garden 
bench,  respecting  the  two  best  modes  of  reaching  the 
Mediterranean :  and  Lilia,  as  she  listened,  at  one  time 
wished  she  might  glide  on  the  now  placid  at  ^  fiir-famed 
lalie  before  her,  to  the  city  of  Geneva,  thence  by  dili- 
gence to  Lyons,  and  down  the  Rhone  ti»  Avignon— Pe 
trarch's  Avignon,  to  Marseilles :  then  preferred,  and  b» 
came  <iuite  oKcited,  to  cross  the  Simplon,  to  identify  tha 
Miblime  scenes  of  tlie  Alps,  hitherto  known  only  by 
bo<^  and  prints ; — to  deseend  to  the  lovely  Logo  Mag* 
giore  ;•— to  be  in  Italy !  Oh,  what  delight!  mi  then,  as 
ahe  lamented  tfaac  they  had  brought  with  them  no  map 
or  book  of  loeal  refeKnbe,  a  youdi,  who  also  had  been 
loaning  on  the  low  wall  aud  imperceptibly  lessening  tha 
distaaoe  between  them,  ao^  appftwohed  with  an  eldeir 
frieadtand  addreasliig  hitaself  to  the  two  religions  ladies, 
requested  their  aoo^tsBoe  for  the  use  of  thdr  young 
chai^ge,  of  a  little  work,  exaotiy  such  as  she  seemed  to 
require.  TIm  young  stranger's  addrvsa  was  in  E^Iish, 
but,  modestly  hesitating,  he  recapitulated  it  in  the  most 
perfect  aocentof  his  native  Frendi ;  and  on  fl»  nuns  ex< 
pressing  tlwir  regret  that  be  should  deprive  himself  a# 
tiba  little  book  at  the  very  time  when  it  w-nild  be  ■» 


BOm   AHD  THB  ABBIT.  W 

BHflil  to  him,  he  replied,  with  the  easy  grace  of  his  na* 
tion,  that  if,  each  time  ho  was  reminded  of  his  trifling 
loss,  he  could  hope  that  some  passing  utility  or  pleasure 
had  been  given  to  Mademoiselle,  he  should  be  more  thao 
rewarded. 

The  conversation  conthiuod.     The  youth  discovered 
tliat  the  final  destination  o(  the  English  party  was  Rome, 
and  announced  himself  to  be  a  student  in  the  Collegio 
Nobile  in  the  Eternal  Qty,  and  expecting  to  return  thi- 
ther  about  Novembe?,  after  making  a  tour  of  visits  to 
old  friends  hi  the  Sou  h  of  France.    "So  that  I  may 
hope,"  said  he,  "  to  see  you,  my  reverend  mothers,  with 
your  interesting  charge  agdn,  at  least  at  a  distance,  in 
daint  Peter's,  or  elsewtore."    Hie  two  young  French- 
men  then  withdrew ;  ejoA  immediately  after  one  of  the 
•ttoidants  at  the  inn  took  the  priest  adde  to  inform  Urn 
that  a  well-known  and  respectable  vetturino,  named  An- 
tonio di  Br«i«sia,  being  about  to  return  from  Vevey  to 
Genoa,  would  take  the  party  on  reasonable  terms.   Liiia, 
ftdl  of  renewed  excitement,  begged  the  senior  religious, 
who  held  the  newly-presented  guide-book,  to  find  the  page 
In  whidi  that  route  was  described ;  and  then  turned  to 
the  reverend  arbitrator  in  breathless  suspense.    The  re- 
U^oufl  opened  the  volume,  but  did  not  immediately  seek 
the  part  requested.    Her  eye  had  rested  on  a  crest  and 
ooat  of  arms  long  since  &miliar  to  her:  a  coronet  sur- 
mounted them,  and  beneath  was  printed  in  italic  charac- 
ters the  itame  «  Comto  Arthur  de  Gr^y."    The  nun,  then 

slotdng  the  book,  passed  it  to  her  ireligious  sister,  desired 
her  to  find  for  Lilla  the  pass  of  the  Simplon,  and  remained 

absorbed  in  thought    Thegraoefulboy  who  had  just  left 


m 


m 


cH 


s     :i 


i 


*ii: 


I 


W  KOMI  AND  TBI   ABnT 

tbem  WM  then  the  jroung  Count  de  Ordy,  the  rtmotm 
Utive  of  the  French  branch  of  that  fiunily ;  and  his  eiii.. 
lenoe,  which  had  been  doubted,  and  was  •  point  of  some 
importance,  was  now  placed  beyond  a  doubt. 

ITie  mysterious  course  of  Divine  Providence  was  • 
wbject  of  meditation  not  new  to  the  religious :  but  it  is 
»  theme  inexhaustible,  and  on  which  she  now  continued 
to  ponder,  dweUing  on  details  in  the  present  case  which 
were  known  to  herself  alone.    She  continued  to  admire 
the  mysterious  plan,  that,  having  been  forced  from  her 
religious  seclusion  to  underUke  a  journey  to  Rome, 
hoping,  among  other  secrets  of  her  mission,  to  be  rid  of 
the  reeponmbUity  of  an  inheritance  which,  in  the  present 
state  of  the  aurch  in  England,  she  had  been  compelled 
by  her  religious  superiors  to  retain,  she  should,  in  spite 
of  her  own  wishes,  which  led  her  to  the  quieter  inn,  have 
been  overruled  to  pass  the  evening  and  night  in  the  chief 
howl  of  Ae  place,  and  to  sit  in  the  garden  instead  of  her 
room,  which  had  hitherto  been  her  custom  on  the  joup. 
ney.    She  had  thus  seen  the  last  of  the  Counts  de  Qriy 
of  Languedoo.    She  had  further  learned  that  be  was  a 
■tudent  in  the  college  of  nobles  in  Rome,  and  should  be 
•nabled,  through  the  testimony  of  the  Jesuit  fkthers  who 
governed  that  estabUshment,  to  ascertain  whether  the 
young  Arthur  were  worthy  to  be  recognised  and  made 
the  possessor  of  an  estate  which  the  English  bi«noh  of 
his  fimUy  had  held  since  the  Norman  Conquest. 

Hie  younger  religious  had  now  found  the  desired 
route  in  the  guide-bo  '  and  Lilia  read  aloud  that  their 
journey  would  be  by  the  head  of  the  lake  and  celebrated 
piMon  of  ChiUon,  through  the  valley  of  the  Rhone  to  Mat- 


■fe 


worn  Am  na 


%d,  over  the  Simplon  to  Duomo  d'Owolo,  and  b}  Jm 
LiBgo  Maggiore  to  Arena,  Novarft  and  Aleasandrik  to 
Genoa.    I^y  were  to  atart  every  morning  at  five  o'okxsk, 
repose  two  hours  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  put  up  for 
the  night  at  an  hour,  'aore  or  lees,  afW  muuet    To  this 
they  willii^{iy  agreed ;  and,  after  receiving  in  their  qdet 
bower  the  priest's  blessing,  the  four  female  travelers  re- 
tired to  thev  ;«ivate  devotions,  and  repose  in  tiieir  rooms. 
The  foUovring  morning  beheld  them  on  their  destined 
way  at  the  early  hour  appointed ;  looking  forward  U  i  <^ 
renewal  of  Gatholie  privileges,  above  all  to  hearing  n|UL>-^ 
and  reoeiviqg  holy  Communion,  before  each  day's  jour- 
ney, bleseiags  from  which  they  had  been  debarred  >trougl) 
the  Protestant  part  of  Switzerlaaa  that  lay  on  tatiiir  route 
r  : '  Basle  to  Vevey.    They  now  said  th<^  Litany  of  onr 
I^ady  aloud,  an.i  then  their  rosaries  in  silence :  tbv  -  '>ur^ 
Lilia  addressing  her  efiUsionB  of  hi^piness  to  %hich*'ver 
of  the  party  seemed  the  most«t  leisure  to  attend  to  her  , 
but  if  no  one  were  disposed  io  listen,  <ihe  happy  girl  was 
equally  contented  with  her  own  thoughts,  having  been 
•eottstomed  £rom  her  infiuioy  to  be  independent  of  the 
notice  c^otbera.    fihewas  one  of  •  large  fiiaulyamooe«t 
whom  ahe  had  been  nearly  overioolMd.    Her  beauty,  so 
strikmg  aud  nure  to  strangers,  wae  nearly  that  of  all  her 
brothers  ftndsisten;  and  tl^  to.  the  flaxen  w  light  auburn 
hair  of  all  «he  nine  ehildren,  Lilia  alqne  presented  the 
aontVMt  of  long,  dark  lashes  to  a  de^  blue  eye,  with 
pencilled  brows  of  the  same  dark  brown,  this  advantage 
wasoottoterbAUucedinihe  family  estimation  by  her  pale* 
nees,  #)uch  east  her  in  the  shade,  iriien  surroonded  by 
■Jl»  ^rii^  odaiHti^  «r  IheMst^partioukdy  oThtr  eideat 


rni 


JO 


KOU  AND  TBI   ABBir. 


twin  sisters,  who  were  called  "the  Rosebuds  of  At 
Valley." 

These  pretty  R«  sebuds  were  also  very  happy  creatures, 
lliey  were  the  eldest  chUdren  of  their  fond  parents,  the 
Beverend  Edmuad  SinoUir  and  his  loving  wife— occu- 
pants  of  the  vicarage  of  Woodbridge,  a  hamlet  situated 

in  a  beautiful  valley  near  the  town  of  Elverton  in 

shire.    And  not  only  did  Susan  and  Emma  retain  the 
first  fresh  affections  of  their  parents,  and  the  admiration 
of  their  younger  brothers  and  sisters,  but  they  were  also 
tfie  pets  of  a  neighbourhood  remarlcable  for  its  sociabili- 
ty:  and  no  juvenUe  party  was  ever  deemed  complete 
unless  the  Rosebuds  were  there,  dressed  scrupulously 
•like,  and  undistinguishable,  except  by  the  blue  or  pink 
bow  attached  to  the  left  shoulder  of  each  since  her  cradle. 
After  the  Rosebuds  followed  two  fine  boys,  who,  their 
old  family  friend,  Mr.  Everard,  used  to  say,  might  fitly 
represent  those  Saxon  youths  of  whom  Saint  Gregory 
•aid,  «  Non  Angli  sed  AngeU."    Two  years  after  these 
brothers,  who  had  but  a  year's  difference  in  their  ages, 
came  our  Lilia.    Two  years  after  her  followed  another 
boy :  and  then,  after  •  pause  of  six  years,  there  appeared 
three  more  gu-ls,  whom  Mrs.  Sinclair,  in  all  the  oon- 
sciousness  of  still  sufficient  youth  and  beauty,  caUed  her 
grandchildren;  and  who  absorbed  aU  the  tender  solid, 
tude  she  could  spare  from  the  important  event  of  intro- 
duoing  Susan  and  Emma  offioiaUy  to  the  neighbourhood 
on  their  eighteenth  birth-day. 

It  cannot  be  a  subject  of  surprise,  that,  in  the  midst  of 
these  contrasted,  but  equally  absorbing  cares,  Mrs.  Sin. 
•Uir  should  consent  with  satisfkotion  to  the  offer  mad* 


fiebuda  of  dM 

tppy  creatures, 
id  parents,  the 
ng  wife— occu- 
amlet  situated 

irerton  in > 

ma  retain  the 
bhe  admiration 
they  were  also 
>r  its  sociabili. 
med  complete 
i  scrupulously 
e  blue  or  pink 
ace  her  cradle. 
>y8,  who,  their 
»y,  might  fitly 
kunt  Gregory 
u«afW  these 
in  their  ages, 
owed  another 
here  appeared 
t  all  the  oon- 
tty,  called  her 
tender  solioL 
ivent  of  intror 
neighbourhood 

1  the  midst  of 
res,  Mrs.  Sin- 
e  offer  mad* 


BOm   AND  TBC  ABBKT.  ll 

by  the  domestic  tutor,  that,  as  the  governess  co\M  no* 
manage  Miss  Lilia,  and  she  appeared  happier  with  her 
brothers,  he  (Mr.  Neston)  should  conduct  her  studies  and 
general  education.  The  consent  of  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Sinclair  having  been  obtained,  Liliaffrom  the  age  of 
eleven,  never  entered  the  girls'  school-room  except  to 
attend  the  lessons  in  music  and  drawing  given  by  proles- 
Bors  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  expense  of  these  mas- 
ters  was  defrayed  by  the  fitmily  friend,  Mr.  Everard ; 
whilst  the  stipend  of  the  tutor,  and  the  youths'  further 
career  at  Oxford,  had  been  undertaken  solely  by  their 

unde,  the  Right  Reverend  Dr.  Sinclair,  Bishop  of  L . 

The  boy  who  had  followed  Lilia  into  the  world  after  two 
years'  interval,  was  a  gentle,  affectionate  little  fellow,  who 
had  enjoyed  his  six  years'  exclusive  privileges  as  young< 
est,  and  had  also  contracted  habits,  from  his  delicate 
health,  which  prevented  his  being  often  with  his  brothers. 
He  doted  on  his  father,  who  doted  on  him,  and  preferred 
•musing  himself  in  his  fether's  study,  or  walking  with 
him  to  the  poor  cottages,  to  the  more  stirring  and  socia- 
ble games  of  the  elder  boys.  Hence  the  close  alliance  of 
Frederick,  Henry,  Lilia,  and  the  tutor  was  rarely  inter- 
rupted. She  learned  "cricket,"  and  " prisoners' bass," 
•nd  to  fish  with  rod  «id  net  She  also  learned  a  few 
tUngs  more,  unnoticed  by  any  one,  till,  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  she  was  invited  by  Mr.  Everard  to  take  a  long 
country  walk  with  him,  and  they  sate  down  together  on 
A  violet  bank  to  rest  themselves,  and  to  talk  of  things 
grave  or  gay,  as  might  please  his  "  Lily  of  the  Valley ;" 
for  BO  she  had  now  grown  to  be  called,  fiur  and  neiur. 
« And  so  you  love  to  walk  b  the  country,  Lily,"  sdd 


mm'Mmtismmi»miis>m'i'^>lts«*!*i»*««u».s 


Jf 


AONI    AHO   THB   AVBKT. 


he,  "  instead  of  going  with  Susan  and  Emma  to  shop  in 
Elverton  1  Well,  you  are  right,  my  Lily ;  God  made 
the  country,  and  man  made  the  town." 

**Yo8,"  returned  Lilia;  "I  used  to  think  that  some 
things  in  nature  were  too  insignificant  for  God  himself 
to  have  made,  and  I  even  agreed  with  Plato  that  God  did 
not  make  chaos,  but  only  moulded  the  chaotic  mass  to 
perfection.  However,  this  year  I  have  discarded  that 
notion  as  too  irrational,  because,  who  then  could  have 
Blade  the  world  in  its  chaotic  state  1  Why,  none  less 
than  a  God.  Now,  there  is  but  One  God :  aud  this  sys- 
tem would  imply  two  Gods,  or,  as  Mr.  Neston  calls  it^ 
*•  Duality.'  " 

During  Lilia's  speech,  Mr.  Everard  plucked  a  few 
idolets,  and  inhaled  their  perfume  to  prevent  her  from 
perceiving  his  smiles.  At  length  he  said,  "And  what  do 
Fred  and  Harry  think  t" 

"  Oh !"  said  she,  "  they  have  always  preferred  Aria- 
totle,  because  he  holds  that  God  is  the  creator  of  ideas, 
whioh  are  the  noble  part  of  us;  while  Plato  makes  ideas 
to  be  so  many  inferior  intelligences  whom  God  did  not 
oreate,  but  found  already  existing :  but  still  I  like  Plato 
best,  because  he  holds  tiut  Grod  is  not  only  ui  couteni- 
plation  of  his  oxm  Divine  Essence,  but  is  also  the  Provi- 
dence of  man.  And  is  it  not  oonsoling  and  hopeful,  sur," 
oontmued  Lilia,  "  to  feel  that  God  notices  and  protects 
us  ?  Now,  Aristotle  holds  that,  aa  God  is  Perfection,  it 
is  a  more  perfect  state  for  Him  to  be  always  in  contem« 
plation  of  his  own  Divine  Essence,  and  therefore  not  the 
Providence  of  man,  although  his  final  reward.  Now,  do 
yptt  not  like  Plato  the  best  1" 


A 


ttfe 


BOm  AXD  TBI  ASBXr. 


19 


**  Why,of  two  erroDeoua,  beoause  onrevealed  systoms,** 
replied  llr.  Everard,  "  perhaps  I  agree  with  you ;  be- 
cause it  is  a  great  and  practical  truth  that  the  One  Eter* 
nal  Omnipotent  God  does  condescend  to  be,  not  only  the 
Creator  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible,  but  to  be  also 
the  Providence  of  man.  And  we  cannot  but  admire  tkfi 
vast  and  sublime  genius  of  Plato,  which,  unaided  by  Re- 
velation, excepting  traditions  imperfectly  conveyed, 
oould  grasp  so  muuh  of  the  mi^ty  truth  of  God.  And 
what  a  profound  and  solid  t]iinl(er-~what  a  correct  ao^ 
laborious  classifier,  was  Aristotle  i" 

"  Creator  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible !"  repeated 
Lilia.  "That  was  first  taught  by  Moses.  That  is  the 
Mosaic  system  which  I  prefer ;  and  I  am  therefore  never 
tired  of  the  country,  and  of  examining  all  the  details  of 
this  wonderful  weation  of  God.  But  1  should  UKe  to 
•ee  some  sublime  scenery :  real  mountains'— cascades-^ 
mighty  rivers — vast  depths  of  forests — a  storm  at  sei^-<- 
a  volcanic  irruption — an  avalanche — and  to  look  at  the 
planets  and  at  a  comet  through  a  fine  telescope." 

'*Well,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  **  perhaps  in  the  course  of 
your  life  you  may  see  all  these  wonders  of  nature  I 
will  bring  over  a  fine  telescope  the  next  time  I  come  to 
Woodbridge,  and  we  will  have  a  peep  at  Jupiter." 

"CSiI  thank  you,"  eried  Lilia.  "And  is  your  tele- 
•eope  powerful  enough  to  enable  me  to  seci  the  Goorgium 
BtdDsl" 

**  Why,  no ;  not  this  portable  one.  We  must  oontmve 
•  visit  to  ttte  grtHUt  t#leioof>«  at  Buroleigh  |br  tl«t 


tmi. 


m 


14 


BOm  AND  TBI  ABBIT. 


•♦  And  those  sublime  wonders  which  really  belong  to 
our  earth,  and  which  I  oould  see  without  a  telescope," 
Mid  Ulia,  " mountaiM,  forests,  the  seal" 

"Well,"  said  the  ever  benevolent  old  gentleman,  "I 
■hould  not  wonder  if,  some  day,  Lily  and  I  took  a  little 
tour." 

"  Oh,  what  happiness !"  cried  she. 

«  But  this  must  be  quite  a  secret,"  said  Mr.  Ererard. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  LiUa:  "and  it  would  be  very  dis. 
iKmourable  to  tell  a  secret  I  shall  not  tell  even  Fred 
and  Harry." 

"  And  as  we  cannot  immediately,  nor  perhaps  for  some 
months,  start  on  this  proposed  little  tour,"  said  he,  "  you 
had  better  examine  those  minute  wonders  of  natur* 
which  are  always  within  your  reach." 

"Yes,"  said  Lilia,  "  the  wonders  of  the  microscope- 
insects,  shells,  minerals,  and  flowers.  I  do  look  at  them 
teiy  often,  especially  the  insects.  Last  year  I  did  not 
Delieve  that  God  made  those  that  are  noxious :  I  would 
not  look  at  them  because  I  thought  the  Devil  made  them ; 
but  now  I  adhere  to  the  Mosaic  account  ratirely,  as  being 
much  the  most  reasonable  and  consistent" 

Mr.  Ererard  here  observed,  for  the  second  time,  tiiat 
Lilia  never  expressed  herself  as  if  bound,  by  Oiristian 
^th,  to  believe  the  whole  oontrats  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments;  but  lialanoed  the  Mosaic  account  agunst 
other  systems  of  ancient  philosophers,  as  if  die  were 
perfectly  at  liberty  to  admit  or  dissent,  as  pleased  her 
best  He  was  determined  to  ascertain  this  still  more 
alearly  during  the  litUe  tear  he  had  piopoMd  to 


son  ASD  TBI  ABUT. 


II 


ber ;  and  which,  after  many  hopes  and  delays,  and  fears, 
and  secrets,  and  mysteries,  was  finally  determined  fitr 
the  first  of  September^  to  wtoia  te  •  fortnight  toWoo^ 
bri^aValkf. 


. 


V        ..•      t 


-■'wtiiimiiBMM^MWwH 


■■■ 


iai 


Mi 


If 


aOUB  Am  TUB 


I 


(,•..< 


f 


CHAPTER  H. 

V  M  Alif  tli  In  mlmlo  tii  Ui  traM 
A  OMM  bjloTcd,  and  itiU  reiiMinbarMi  fcM  | 
Fir  nora  when,  In  lonia  living  connttrpart, 
W«  ind  MTiTad  th*  viiioa  of  our  tMwt. 

Tm  consent  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sinclair  was  easily  obtained 

to  the  little  tour  proposed  by  Mr.  Everard ;  and  Lilia, 

for  the  first  time  in  her  young  life,  being  about  to  leav^ 

the  neighbourhood  of  her  birth,  after  Icissing  and  weeping 

at  all  the  farewells,  especially  those  to  Fred  and  Harry, 

took  her  seat  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Moss,  the  housekeeper 

to  Mr.  Everard,  in  his  open  carriage,  which  he  drove 

himself,  with  another  gentleman  beside  him  in  front. 

The  horses  were  young  and  fresh,  and  could  scarcely 

wait  to  have  Lilia's  little  trunk  inserted  in  the  leathern 

receptacle  behind :  and  now  the  last  waving  of  handa 

was  given — the  bcrses  sprang  forward — Lilia  smiled 

through  her  tears — ^Mrs.  Moss  prepared  the  pence  for 

the  turnpike— and  nothing  stopped  their  rapid  way  till 

the  ascent  of  the  steep  hill  from  the  valley  to  the  downs. 

Here  Mr.  Everard  turned  round  to  see  whether  Lilia 

lookftd  happy.    He  seemed  satisfied  by  his  rapid  scrutiny, 

fyt  be  exclaimed, 

"Th«  tMT  forgot  M  won  u  ihod,  tha  miiihia*  of  tk«  biMft** 

•*  Bless  her !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Moss,  "  people  don't  ay 
Qmt  are  goin^^  for  only  a  fortnight's  pleasuring." 
"Yes  they  do,  at  sixteen,  my  good  Moas,  just  in  tW 


BOm  AHD  THE  ABMtT. 


11 


maimer  I  have  quoted  from  the  poet"  Mr.  Everard, 
then  resuming  his  former  position,  said  in  a  lower  tone  to 
the  gentleman  by  his  side,  who  was  dressed  rather  peciu 
liarly  in  black,  and  had  a  countenance  as  noble  and 
intelligent  as  it  was  handsome,  **  If  it  be  not  against 
your  strict  rules  to  turn  round  also  to  look  at  a  young 
lady,  you  will  see  a  pair  of  eyes  and  a  forehead  that  will 
remind  you,  Don  Carlos,  as  they  do  me,  of  days  gone  by  I 
And  the  mind  within  is  also  alike." 

But  the  gentleman  called  Don  Carlos  did  not  turn 
round  to  look  at  Lilia, '  and  merely  said,  "  Former  ties, 
and  former  titles,  enter  equally  into  the  holocaust.  You 
promised  to  call  me  no  more  Don  Carlos,  but  simply 
Father  Duago." 

"  Ah,  true !  so  I  did.  Well,  but  no  one  heard  me ; 
and  neither  your  person  nor  your  history  is  known  to 
our  young  companion,  unless  she  should  recognize  your 
fiunily  likeness  to  the  present  lady  of  Elvertdn  Hall  and 
her  children." 

"  And  this  young  lady,"  sud  Father  Duago,  **  is  then 
the  motive  for  the  excursion  to  the  I<akes,  and  of  my 
presence  on  the  occasion  t" 

** Principally  so,"  replied  Mr.  Everard;  "but  I  hod 
your  health  likewise  in  view;  as  your  latr  excessive 
studies,  for  which  your  former  military  life  had  not  pro> 
pared  you,  have  greatly  reduced  your  strength." 

"My  health  is  good  enough,"  sud  Father  Duago. 
**  NcUdng  done  or  commanded  by  the  Society  of  Jesus 
is  excessive ;  and  surely  you  are  mistaken  in  supposing 
that  my  former  military  life  had  not  prepared  me  fit 
itttdy  and  sedarfmi.    Remember,  I  wm  twice  impit 


IS 


■Om  AND  TBI   ABBXT. 


■oned,  stiother  time  ocmfined  to  tny  bed  by  a  dtngorcMk 
wound ;  and  at  all  times,  when  duty  rendered  it  possible, 
had  recourse  to  books  of  a  literary  and  serious  na* 
ture." 

"  Like  your  holy  Fomider,  after  the  siege  of  Pampe> 
luna,"  said  Mr.  Everard :  "but  your  former  life  has  been 
more  innocent  than  that  of  Sidut  Ignatius  Loyola  before 
his  conversion,  therefore  you  need  not  luidertake  to 
become  so  great  a  penitent.  You  have  been  steady  to, 
though  unfortunate  in  a  virtuous  attachment.  This  has 
been  my  ourn  case,  and  almost  t  may  say  to  the  same 
object,  after  the  death  of  her  mother.  Well !  may  God 
foi^ve  her  all  the  pain  she  has  given,  and  is  stUl  giving 
us!" 

"  When  the  heail;,''  replied  Father  Duago,  "is  firmly 
fixed  on  God  tHone,  no  creature  is  capable  of  giving  us 
personal  pain.  We  feel  pain  or  satisfaction  only  in  refer* 
ebce  to  the  outrage  or  glory  given  to  Grod." 

"  But  when  a  friend,  and  more  than  a  friend,  is  acting 
ill  a  way  to  puzzle  one,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "so  that  one 
cannot  foresee  with  any  certainty  whether  there  is  not 
about  to  be  a  shipwreck  of  all  that  was  deemed  prudent, 
<k>nsi8tent,  firm,  and  rational--«urely  one  may,  and  ought 
to  feci  anxious?" 

"  Even  in  such  a  case,"  replied  Father  Duago,  "  the 
uneasiness  should  not  be  excessive.  We  should  pray 
that  the  person  in  question  be  given  fi-esh  grace  to 
enlighten,  with  fidelity  to  correspond  to  tiiat  light,  and 
then  hope  for  the  best.  We  are  bound  not  to  pass  rash 
judgment  on  our  intimate  ftiend,  just  aa  much,  if  not 
ihore  than  on  a  stranger." 


IW* 


BOm  AHD  TBI  ABBir. 


*  But  do  you  know,"  Mid  Mr.  Ererard  in  s  still  lower 
lone,  "  that  shi  has  left  die  Abbey  t" 
"Where?"  said  Father  Duago  suddenly,  but  then 


'  Oh !  no  one  knows  exactly,"  continued  Mr.  Ererard; 
"  she  has  left  off  consulting  nu.  I  suppose  she  had  proper 
consent  I  heard — ^not  from  herself-^that  she  wanted  to 
restore  the  old  Benedictine  rule  in  the  Abbey,  and  still 
to  retain  the  Active  Sisters  of  Mercy,  and  to  hare  two 
communities ;  and  for  the  Contemplative  nuns  to  live  in 
the  retired  side  of  the  Abbey  next  the  heath — ^the  solitary 
part;  and  to  keep  up  tiie  ftill  choir  office;  and  more 
than  this,  the  Perpetual  Adohitiofi !  Now,  how  is  she 
to  get  subjects  in  this  Protestant  neighbourhood  for  so 
immense  a  community  as  she  requires  ?  And  why  could 
she  not  be  contented  to  remain  in  the  active  life,  in  her 
pretty  little  bonnet,  with  her  straw  basket,  still  to  be 
seen  and  spoken  to  by  her  old  friend  1  I  am  getting  too 
old,  Don  Caries,  I  am  too  old  both  for  her  clumges  and 
your  sublime  abstractions  and  disengagements.  And  I 
do  not  know  where  she  is  gone,  either  1"  added  he,  whip- 
ping the  horses,  contrary  to  all  his  theoiica,  and  whirling 
the  carriage  across  the  downs  to  Lilia's  great  delight 

The  inn  at  which  they  stopped  was  the  first  whose 
interior  Ldlia  had  ever  seen.  Here  they  were  to  rest  the 
horses,  eat  their  dumer,  and  take  a  walk :  and  this  waa 
their  daily  practice  during  thei?  tour.  At  dinner  and 
supper  Mr.  Everard  took  the  head  of  the  table,  with 
Fadier  Duago  seated  at  his  right  hand,  whQe  Mrs.  Moss 
«te  at.  the  bottom,  with  Lilla  nestled  close  to  her— the 
{dod  W(nnan  heartily  enjoying  her  holiday  and  the  oflbe^ 


W 


t 

a 


v; 


1??- 


M 


■Om  AND  TBB  ABBir. 


(fcr  which  we  have  no  English  word,  aud  have  borrow^ 
from  our  Spanish  and  French  neighbours) — that  o( duenna 
or  ehaptrvn.  Mr.  Everard,  who  was  never  angry  but 
with  those  he  loved  too  much,  recovered  by  degrees  from 
the  irritation  which  had  driven  him  to  this  first  stage 
nearly  an  hour  before  the  appointed  time;  and  a  short 
nap  after  diimer  completely  restored  him,  for  he  found 
that  while  he  was  asleep  Father  Duago  had  said  his 
office,  and  was  again  ready  to  listen  to  his  recreative  talk, 
and  to  take  the  part  of  objector,  defender,  or  proposer, 
as  the  case  might  be. 

It  had  not  been  for  bu  own  health  that  Father  Duago 
had  consented  to  this  little  tour ;  neither  was  it  to  teach 
young  Lilia  Catliolicity,  although  he  had  been  interested 
In  the  account  given  him  of  her  theological  education. 
n>e  great,  though  concealed  object  for  becoming  one  of 
the  four  tourists,  was  Mr.  Everard's  own  aoul— Father 
Duago  having  felt  the  responsibility  towards  God,  ever 
ainoe  the  renewal  of  their  friendship,  of  rousing  him 
from  that  morbid  benevolence  of  creed  which  might  have 
its  preferences,  but  could  condemn  no  rfiligious  system, 
and  that  vague,  easy  admission  of  Catholic  truth,  which 
had  constantly  led  the  Catholics  with  whom  he  conversed 
to  form  the  most  sanguine  hopes,  which  were  as  constantly 
disappointed.  It  might  be  an  intellectual  treat  to  listen 
to  Mr.  Everard's  graphic  account  of  religious  theories, 
from  Plato  to  Descartes ;  but  difficult  would  it  have  been 
at  this  time  of  his  renewed  intimacy  with  Father  Duago 
to  have  won  from  him  the  condemnation  of  any  scheme 
of  creation,  revelation,  and  final  state  o^  bliss.  Father 
Duago  had  been  particularly  struck  by  this  in  the  aolic^ 


BOMB  Am  m  ABBBT. 


tods  he  ezprcMed  for  Lilla.  He  feued  ehe  wm  under 
tile  tuition  of*  Deist ;  be  wm  desirous  that  Father  Duago 
■hould  lay  before  her  a  history  of  Christian  theology, 
which  should  malie  her  a  good  CathoUo;  but  when  the 
priest  ventured  to  penetrate  into  Mr.  Evenurd's  personal 
intentions,  he  found  that  to  prefer  the  Christian  Revela 
tion— to  consider  the  Qiuroh  in  oommunion  with  Ronie 
to  be  the  only  successor  to  the  Jewish  Dispensation— to 
admire,  to  lore,  and  to  defend  her,  was  in  the  estima* 
dim  of  Mr.  Everard,  quite  enough  to  stamp  Urn  a  Ck> 
tholio,  and  save  his  aouL 

Father  Duago'a  ostensible  task,  however,  was  with 
Lilia;  and  that  very  evening  h^  found  an  opportunity 
of  saying  to  Mr.  Everard  in  her  immediate  hearing,-^ 
**  Befwe  the  CSiristian  Revelation,  and  in  the  remote  ages 
of  antiqui^,  there  were  many  great  minds;  but  would* 
we  point  to  the  two  mental  giants — ^to  the  two  names 
that  are  symbolical  of  human  genius— of  the  genius  of  in. 
Bpiration  and  the  genius  of  logio— we  must  soond  the 
names  of  Plato  and  Aristotle." 

"  Ah !"  cried  the  ever  ready  Ifc.  Everard ; "  why,  here 
is  (me  who  will  quite  agree  with  you.  Lily,  give  an  ao> 
oount  to  Father  Duago  of  what  you  remember  of  the  Pla* 
tonic  System,  and  why  you  prefer  it  to  that  of  Aristotle." 

Hie  unconscious  Lilia  recapitulated  precisely,  though 
fai  a  timid  v<nce,  and  with  the  roses  on  her  cheeks, 
the  two  systems  of  theology  tought  her  by  her  tutor  j 
and  was  thence  led  on  by  Fadwr  Duago,  assisted  by 
Mr.  Everard,  to  speak  of  what  she  Stgain  called  the 
**  Mosaic  System,"  and  that)  on  the  whole,  the  gave  It 
the  prefefenoa. 


M 


■OUS    AMP   rniE    ARMr> 


**  You  »re  quire  right,"  obHervcd  the  Keverand  FsUmt 
"Pagva  thought,  though  awiated  hy  the  noblest  nflurto 
of  geniuH,  was  uiutbl«  to  coitooive  •  perfect  idM  of  God. 
ITw  existcnoo  of  God  wiw  auknowiwlgvd :  philoMphy 
had  ulao  arrivod  to  its  ipeculationi  to  a  oeitain  conceptioa 
of  the  unity,  aimplicity,  and  porfijotiou  of  the  Divina 
Nature :  but  this  conception  was  incomplete,  and  mixed 
with  grave  errors.  Plato  and  Aristotle  gave  each  their 
assent,  and  their  proofs,  that  there  is  but  one  God :  but 
how  reconcile  this  Divine  unity  with  the  eternity  of 
uncreated  matter?  In  fact,  at  the  bottom  of  all  their 
Iheories  was  to  be  found,  not  Unity,  but  Dualism." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lilia,  "  that  is  eucUy  what  Mr.  Neaton 
■ays."  T^en,  observing  the  gentleness  of  Father  Duago'a 
voice  and  manner,  she  ventured  to  add,^  '«I  am  not  aur. 
prised  that  the  great  men  of  antiquity  were  all  spocnlatinf 
about  God,  because  it  is  '^-^  most  interesting  subject  that 
oau  possibly  occupy  the  mind ;  and  I  should  not  oare 
much  about  the  beautiful  soenes  I  am  to  be  taken  to  in 
this  tour,  if  I  did  not  believe  that  Moses  wrote  the  truth, 
when  he  aaj's  <ln  the  beginning  God  created  the  heavens 
and  the  earth.'  But  some  «(  the  notions  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle  are  very  beautiful— more  beautiful  Uma  any 
that  you  can  find  in  Moses.  I  like  very  mueh  that  idea 
of  God  in  the  constant  contemplation  of  his  own  divfaie 
essence.  Thia  is  very  sublime,  and  Mosea  says  notUnc 
ofiL" 

Hero  was  the  opening  which  Father  Duago  had  denrad 
for  introducing  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in  Unky  oT 
God.  "  It  is  sublime,"  said  he,  "  and  m  t  mora  sublime 
than  true.     Plato  aid  Aristotle  held  this  trath,  iritb 


•tfitn,  ftom  revelations  given  hy  6«i<l  htirtMvir  tn  bU 
chosen  servtnts.  If  Moses  does  nut  vxpreHkly  use  thess 
terms,  he  implies  the  idea  when  he  reoounts  th»t  Qod 
says  '  Let  U»  make  mrni  iu  our  own  image.'  Mere  God 
speftiU  m  s  plurality  of  persons,  and  here  we  first  learn, 
what  is  afterwards  more  expUohly  declared,  that  God, 
in  the  contemplation  of  his  own  divine  essencti,  hod 
already  produced  his  own  image — the  divine  reflection 
of  Himself:  so  that  in  the  one  Crud  there  are  two 
Persons ;  and  from'  their  mutual  love  and  cMitemplation 
of  each  other's  perfections,  the  two  Divine  Persons  in 
on«  God  have  produced  a  third  Divine  Person.  Thus 
i  >>  ^<!temal  and  Almighty  God's  contemplation  of  his 
owu  perfection  has  not  been  a  Barren  abstraction,  but  a 
frmtfUl  production.  In  this  sublime  revelation  we  find 
all  those  diflksulties  solved,  against  which  the  aooient 
philosophers  struggled  in  vain.  Instead  uf  their  second 
and  subordinate  God,  under  diflerent  appellations,  and 
their  system  of  Ideas,  pre^xistent  to  God  himMlf|  and 
therefixe,  in  some  sort,  bis  superiors,  we  have  a  system 
which  preserves  inviolate  the  Unity  of  God.  These 
three  Divine  Persons  must  be  equal  in  every  rei^tect, 
for  if  you  imagined  one  to  be  inferior  to  the  oUier  hi 
divine  essence,  you  would  immediately  form  to  yourself 
a  second  God,  and  (l>en  would  cease  your  bounden  fiuth 
that  Uiere  is  but  one  only  God." 

Father  Duago  h^  spoken  very  deliberately,  with  aa* 
veni  pMwes,  mi  tjhen  added,  **!•  this  made  suffideatly 
dear  to  ycail" 

Lilia  replied,  as  timid  yowg  persons  generdly  nfifyt 
*  Tes,  sir ;"  but  after  a  few  instants  she  sud,  "  I  find  it 


* 


i-n-nrnr^MTTK 


■WSiF- J.  I  iijiUPJi  juoji-mwwa 


M 


BOm  AND  TBI  ABBST. 


diflknilt  not  to  consider  tliat  the  original  God  is  greater 
than  the  two  other  Persons  he  has  made  m  Himself." 

"  It  is  our  ftith,"  returned  Father  Duago,  «*  that  at  no 
time  was  there  one  only  original  Person,  without  this 
perfect  image  of  himself,  and  the  immediate  production 
of  their  mutual  love.  So  that  three  Persons  in  the  same 
divine  essence— Tri&ity  in  Unity,  have  existed  from  all 
eternity ;  and,  as  regards  theur  divinity,  all  are  equal. 
Remember  what  I  observed  to  you  just  now,  that  directly 
you  attempt  to  make  different  d^ees  of  divinity  you 
make  to  yourself  more  Gods  than  one.  Do  not  expect, 
however,"  continued  Father  Duago, «  to  find  nothing 
difficult  in  the  mysteries  of  God.  The  doctrine  of  a 
Trinity  in  Unity  is  above  our  reason ;  but  this  you  may 
•afely  believe,  that  those  who  would  escape  from  the 
difficulties  of  this  great  truth  have  ever  involved 
themselves  in  difficulties,  not  only  greater  but  inextri* 
eable." 

Lilia  did  not  reply ;  and  after  a  few  instants*  silenoe, 
Father  Duago,  intent  on  his  subject,  anxious  to  know  tha 
progress  of  her  mind,  and  forgetting  the  strong  fiunUy 
likeness  which  Mr.  Everard  had  mentioned,  for  the  first 
time  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  countenance ;  but  they  wore 
inatantly  dropped-r-an  expression  of  sudden  emotitm 
passed  lus  brow,  and  then  all  was  calm. 

The  deep  and  solemn  subject  of  the  previous  discourse 
was  not  however  on  Ihat  evening  renewed,  for  Mrs. 
Moss  tapped  Mr.  Evorard  on  the  shoulder,  observing^ 
**It  is  getting  late  for  Miss  Lilia,  ■ir,"  and  then  ifttired 
witii  her  to  their  rooms  abova. 


attutmaMttam^m 


■MIS  ASU  m 


>d  is  greater 
Himself." 
>"  that  at  no 
without  this 
»  production 

I  in  the  same 
ted  from  all 

II  are  equal, 
that  directly 
divinity  you 
)  not  expect, 
find  nothing 
DCtrine  of  • 
his  you  may 
>e  from  tlM 
er  inrolved 
but  inextri* 

nts*  silenoe, 
to  know  the 
trongfiunUy 
for  the  first 
It  they  wore 
[en  6moti<m 

us  discourse 
d,  for  Mrs. 
,  observing, 
dienifttired 


CHAPTER  OL 

f»Uk,  Hope,  ud  Lots,  npoa  th*  wmi* 

Of  UviBK  wtten  cimr, 
DMocnded  willingly  to  am 

A  Boweralact,  and  dwr. 
Mai  diT«d  beMatli,  the  root  to  hmt,  , 

And  bcaatie*  fresh  dlktlnw ; 
Until,  pcrfteted  bjr  thair  Mnl, 

The  wntw^lUy  roM. 

Tbi  following  morning  our  tuuiijsto  started  esriy,  uA 
reached  Liverpool  to  dinner ;  and  the  next  di^  tLeuial 
in  tbi  evening,  where,  notwithstanding  Ldlia*s  joy  at 
being  so  near  the  Lialies,  die  did  bo'  4)Tget  that  after 
their  early  suppor  Father  Duago  would  probably  renew 
the  conversation  he  had  held  with  her  on  the  first  even* 
ing  <«f  their  journey ;  and  he,  observing  that  she  willingly 
remained  at  the  table  where  he  was  still  seized,  sai«|, 
**  You  have  been  thinking,  I  feel  persuaded,  of  Ute  deep 
■od  awfiil  subject  which  we  ventured  to  approach  the 
9^,  aning  before  last ;  and  i  believe  that  your  memory  wiU 
prt}T«  suflirieatly  retentive  to  enable  you  to  reoapitubtfe 
to  me  the  greater  part,  if  not  all,  that  f  advanced  on  th^ 
Mibjettt  of  tkreo  Divine  Persons  in  one  Qodheadb" 

Ulia  did  recapitulate  the  whole  to  Father  Duago's 
MtisfiKition,  but  added,  "  I  prefer  thinking  that  the  one 
Chxt  KHnetinii«  terms  himself '  Father,'  sometimes '  Soot* 
wd  nometimes  '  Holy  Ghost.*    I  find  this  easier." 

Fither  Duago  then  said,  "  But  your  endeiWoWt  lUw 
2 


llOtUt  AKD  THI   AHBBT. 


'■■'"'■l"^"iVif¥trtlri 


tfiat  at  every  candid  mind,  ikHild  be  to  ascertain  ■»! 
what  is  easiest,  but  what  is  tmew" 

Lilia  then  ventured  to  observe,  **But  I  tbougki  tkat 
truth  was  simple.  Aristotle  says  that  God  is  a  simpto 
substance,  because  a  simple  substance  is  superior  to  • 
complex  substance." 

Father  Duago  leplied,  "  What  you  have  just  befinra 
advanced,  as  wishing  to  believe,  namely,  that  one  only 
God  is  on*  only  Person  under  different  names  and  diflfer> 
ent  manifestations,  although  original  to  your  mind,  is  a 
very  ancient  error,  which  was  omidemned  by  the  greatest 
Christian  phUosophers  of  the  second  and  third  ages.  In 
wishing  to  escape  from  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity  in 
Unity,  yon  will,  as  I  observed  before,  involve  yourself  in 
impossibilities.  Truth  is  simple  inasmudi  as  it  fS  a  cofr 
tinued  view  of  the  one  only  Grod,  and  aims  scdely  at  Him. 
But  would  you  aspire  to  a  perfect  knowledge  of  Ckid — to 
a  perfect  grasp  of  truth,  rest  assured  that  by  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity  alone  can  you  mount  to  that  sublime 
height  Saint  Paul,  that  vessel  of  election,  who  waa 
caught  up  into  the  Uiird  heaven,  and  heard  words  that 
were  not  permitted  to  man  to  utter,  even  he  attempte  doI 
to  consider  it  an  easy  matter  to  know  God,  but  exolaim% 
*Oh  the  depth  of  the  riches  of  the  wisdom  and  of  the 
knowledge  of  God !  How  incomprehensible  are  his  judg> 
mento,  and  how  unsearchable  his  ways  I  For  -min  hath 
known  the  mind  of  the  Lord!'  Your  soul  desires  to  ooi^ 
template  the  Etenal  in  all  his  purity,  asd  die  beholds  a 
li|^  too  intense  to  penetrate — an  ocean  of  life,  unfirthom* 
•ble,  unlimited  t  All  perfection  is  there ;  aU  truth,  all 
beauty,  aii  wisdom,  all  goodness  I    And  to  God  himaeif 


BOMS  AKO  nn  4Bnr. 


31 


•U  k  simple ;  but  to  your  finite  mind,  to  your  created 
•oul,  these  perfections  must  be  complex,  mysterious, 
•wful,  insomprebensible !" 

"  That  is  very  profound,  and  very  sublime,"  said  Lilia, 
••and  you,  sir,  seem  to  speak  with  authority,  and  to  think 
that  I  ought  to  believe  your  system." 

"  I*,  is  not  my  system,  thanks  be  to  the  Triune  God !" 
exhumed  Father  Duago.  "It  is  the  Christian  Revela 
tion,  ^ven  by  God  himselC  Yes !  to  satisfy  those  aspira. 
tions  towards  himself,  which  He  has  himself  inspired.  He 
has  condescended  to  reveal  the  mystery  of  his  essence. 
He  has  revealed  to  us  that  his  Unity  is  a  Trinity,  and 
has  commanded  all  men  to  be  baptized  in  the  name  oi 
the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

Lilia  looked  timidly  round,  and  finding  that  Mrs.  Moss 
bad  left  the  room,  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  •*  Then  I  had 
better  be  baptized." 

"  Have  you  never  been  baptized  1"  said  Father  Duigo 
in  the  same  tone. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  she. 

••  WiU  you  permit  me,"  said  he,  ••  to  refer  to  Mr.  EveN 
•rd  respecting  this  most  important  disclosure  t" 

••  Mr.  Everard  does  not  know  about  this  so  well  as 
myseW;"  said  Lilia,  "because  he  thLiks  I  was  baptized 
with  Willy  when  the  baby  was  diristened ;  which  pap« 
folly  intended.  Willy  was  christened,  but  they  had  foN 
gotten  to  toll  me  not  to  be  missing,  and  I  had  gone  off 
with  Harry  to  see  the  great  tree  felled  in  the  sand-p^t" 

"But  what  age  were  you  at  that  timel"  ia^tind 
Fatiiar  DuifiK 


Wt.  WNW  AM»  TBS  AimR^ 

**b  is  three  yean  ago,"  rvpUad  tike:  *'f  wm  JMft. 
iurteeft" 

Mr.  Evemrd  wm  standing  at  tbe  open  glaaa  door  ot 
iha  aittiog^oom  during  tlua  private  eonversation,  telling 
ftfrsi.Mo«ato  oemeia  from  tbe  garden  or  she  would  catch 
the  ihoumatism ;  and  their  being  thus  engaged  with  each 
other  enisled  Father  Duago  t»  put  aome  fiurther  questions 
to  LiUa,  and  to  euoouiage  her  in  her  reaolution  to  be 
biqitiMd  immediately,  hut  in  great  imvaey. 

Mrs.  Moss  now  enterii^,  soon  took  Lilia  off  to  her 
repoee;  and  Father  Duago,  heiog  left  alone  with  Mr. 
Evenurd,  mentioned  the  remarkable  omission  disclosed  to 
him  by  Lilia,  Mid  that  he  was  much  struck  by  the  fact 
that,  in  so  numerous  a  &mily,  where  sooner  or  later  it 
had  been  deemed  neoeasary  to  save  the  souls  of  the  chil- 
dren, she  alone  had  been  overlooked.  "  Aimij^ty  Grod 
has  had  His  designs  in  this,"  added  Father  Duago.  **  I 
have  bee»as  rnnoh  int»«sted  aa  you  ejqweted  in  convers- 
ing with  her.  Her  remarks  are  extraotdinary  for  so 
young  a  girl,  and  her  disposition  seema  most  artleaa  and 
doaile.  Whatavav  asrupies  of  deUoaey  we  may  have  had 
in  not  prooeedii^  tae  At  in  the  oowenioii  of  a  child 
wilhout  the  kBovdedga  of  her  parents,  they  are  all  swept 
•wi^  by  tha  discovery  of  her  unbi^itiwd  state.  I  do  not 
tliink  that  we  o«^  to.  proaeed  ona  sti^  more,  at  the 
risk  <tf  a  life  aopveaimia.'  I  oouldprnparethia  intelligent 
mind  hi  •  fev  houn  toraeeivethesaofMBent  •f  Bapti»i» 
I  b^pe,  tharofawy  you  will  remam  thraughoul  to^norrow 
heia  «t  KeadaL'* 

Mr.  Everard  became  agitated  at  the  disovvaiy  of  tlw. 


Mto 


ttlMl 


iiiD  nn 


Iwt,  ma  at  tbe  immediirto  npamthm  tBteDdfll.  '**Hb 
■eoold  not  dedde,"  he  and,  *'tlwt  uiglit  en  mhu  bad  %«(. 
be  done ;"  and  would  haw  aootliedlBs  mind  by  ptalMsof 
lilia's  beantgr,  ttid  the  reoarda  «f  bygcnie  day*.  But 
mich  diaoourae  being  totally  discoaraged  by  his  Tevereiid 
companion,  4ie  't&A.  vefuge  in  the  pfaOoaopUoal  and  reli- 
gious speculations  of  antiquity—- especially  dweUing  on 
**  Ibat  most  aneient  doetriae,  «x0ef>t  tiiat  of  bibHeal  tr»- 
^ition,  respecting  die  origin  of  die  world,  namely,  die 
celebrated  hypothesis  of  Emanation,  wfai<di  had  been  die 
fMndation  of  iie  theology  cf  Vedas,  and  of  the  oode  of 
Manou." 

For  a  dme  Fathar  Idaago  ^iqi|ieared  to  listen  to  <ke 
identity  dt  til  dungs  with  die  god  Braraa,  and  Brama's 
altwaate  action  and  refxise ;  but  his  thoughts  were  ez< 
olusively  occupied  by  the  soul  which  had  now  taken  dia 
precedence  HT  Mr.  EvenuNTs  m  bis  spiritual  solicitude, 
and  heheard  ndtUng  but  soimds.  At  lei^  he  informed 
his  dieoretic  friend  that  he  took  upon  himself  tbe  praot^ 
cal  part  of  saving  Lilia's  soul ;  that,  having  her  own 
consent,  which  at  her  age  was  essential  to  the  vdidity  ai 
tbe  sacrament,  he  would,  by  the  grace  of  <3od,  devote  the 
early  hours  of  the  morrow  to  her  immediate  prepnation, 
and  confer  baptism  on  her  at  the  time  of  day  when  l^y 
could  be  the  most  secure  from  inton^doo.  Father 
Duago  then  inquired  whedwr  Mrs.  Moss  was  to  become 
a  confidential  witoeas  of  the  sacred  funcdonl 

This  last  question  threw  Mr.  Everard  into  fresh  agitfr 
diNi.  "  Moss,"  said  he,  **is  an  old  church-woman— h(Mi 
■toady  to  mfiutt  b^>tism ;  she  wcold  never  be  made  «• 
aimprehaiid  the  |»otta  aanqika  whioh,  durii^ 


I 'ft' 


M 


-  Tirrr-rii  w— mmbw 


1 

1  .;. 


W9  BOm  Am*  TBI 

jean  after  Lilis'a  birth,  prevented  her  ikther  from  pi*. 
Mnting  his  infant  ohildrai  for  baptism.  She  would  mifr 
judge  Mr.  Sinclair,  and  despise  Lilia." 

"Very  well,"  said  Father  Duago;  "we  do  not  want 
her  in  the  least" 

"  But  how  are  we  to  get  her  out  of  the  way  V  cried 
Hr.  Ererard. 

"  Cannot  you  give  her  some  commission,**  suggested 
Father  Duago,  "that  wUl  detain  her  from  the  house 
during  half  an  hour  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  will  go  with  her !"  exclaimed  the  terrified  Mr. 
Everard  ;**  that  is,  I  will  take  her  with  me  for  half  an 
hour's  wallc ;  I  had  better  be  out  of  the  way.  Neither 
godfather  nor  godmother  are  essential  at  LUia's  age.** 

"  It  is  well  they  are  not,"  quietly  observed  the  Reverend 
Father. 

"  WeU,  then,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "I  wUl  not  disturb 
you  any  more,  but  talte  myself  off  to  bed.  I  shall  be  at 
your  mass,  however,  please  God,  to-morrow  morning  at 
eight  o'clock,  in  the  ohapeL"  And  accordingly  so  he  was ; 
but  bo  did  not  awut  the  termination  of  Father  Duago'a 
thankh,pving  aRet  mass ;  for  he  wished  to  avoid  all  further 
private  conversation, until  "this  atbir  of  Lilia's,"  as  he 
called  it,  should  be  over.  The  aealous  Jesuit,  on  rising 
from  his  knees,  sought  the  senior  priest  in  the  chapel- 
house,  and  confided  to  him,  without  revealing  her  name, 
the  unbaptized  state  of  Lilia ;  requesting  that  some  trust- 
worthy  Catholic  female  should  call  cm  the  young  lady 
•bout  eleven  o'clock,  seemingly  to  pay  her  the  polite  at- 
tentiob  of  a  visit ;  and  should  remain  with  her  after  Mr. 
Everard  and  his  housekeeper  had  started  on  their  walk. 


IS . 


aom  Axo  nn  Amr.  ft 

IW  iBtennediAte  boun  were  devoted  by  Father  Dingo 
to  iiutruotioiu  suited  to  the  immenae  gift  about  to  b« 
beatowed,  and  in  terma  oongenial  to  the  mind  of  the 
recipient.  When  he  informed  her  that  the  aame  Divuie 
Being,  of  whose  perfections  they  had  disooursed  on  the 
preceding  evening,  would,  in  the  three  Persona  of  hia 
easential  ututy,  descend  on  her  soul  in  Baptism,  Ulia 
immediately  inquired,  "  By  particles,  or  emanation  T* 

"By  emanation,  after  a  wholly  spiritual  manner," 
replied  Father  Duago ;  "  and  this  communication  of  tho 
Divinity  to  your  soul  will  leave  an  impression  never  to 
be  effiioed:  so  that  when  free  from  the  encumbrance  of 
matter,  your  soul,  ever  aspiring  towards  the  Divinity, 
will  fly  to  the  ccMostant  oontem{>lation  of  his  perfections, 
and  to  the  embraces  of  his  love — this  bapdisni^  ^aso- 
tion  from  Himself,  remaining  on  the  soul,  will  be  the 
token  of  your  acceptance  to  this  joy  throughout  eternity." 

**  It  ia  joy !  it  is  joy,  even  now  in  hope !"  cried  Lilia; 
**  for,  if  it  bo  happiness  for  God  to  contemplate  lus  own 
perfection,,  what  overwhelming  joy  tot  me  1  And  this 
most  divine  emanation  will  remain  in  my  soul  until  it  is 
once  more  absorbed,  and  I  with  it,  in  the  divine  essence." 

"  You  are  nut  ever  to  lose  your  individuality,"  said 
Father  Duago. 

"Ah!"  cried  Lilia;  "how can  I  be  admitted  to  the 
embraces  of  his  love,  and  not  be  absorbed  and  lost  1" 

"  You  were  created,"  said  Father  Duago,  "to  tofiplj 
the  place  of  some  fitllen  angel,  who,  having  had  the  oboiise 
of  good  and  evil,  chose  evil,  and  is  banished  from  the 
^ght  and  enjoyment  of  God  for  ever.    You  are  aware 


■out  AMD  TBI  ABBBT. 


ttat,  aiUnr  Aetevolt  and  oondemtwtion  ofthe  fctten  ■ngdls 
those  who  remained  faithfal  were  confirmed  in  rtoe  Mid 
bliss  for  ever ;  and  that,  to  supply  the  places  of  Uiose  who 
werelost,  Gk>d  created  man,  leaving  to  him  also  the  choice 
of  good  and  evil.  Yon  know  very  well  that  man  proved 
IM  gaUty  as  the  fidlen  angels ;  that  he  chose  evil  and  lost 
Ids  faiheritmoe,  and  deserved  to  be,  lilce  the  rebel  angels, 
oast  out  at  once  for  ever.  This  would  have  beooi  grief  to 
the  good  aiq;els,  who  ardendy  desire  to  see  their  vacant 
places  fOled  to  Die  greater  glory  of  Ood,  and  would  have 
been  the  greatest  triumph  to  Uiose  now  beookne  devils, 
who  desire,  in  all  pride,  hatred,  and  malice,  to  ruin  man. 
Idnd.  Ton  know  well  what  reparation  was  made,  and 
irtto  repidrod  the  insult  offered  to  God  by  the  sin  of 
Adamr 

«  Yes,"  replied  Ulia ;  "  our  liord  Jesus  Omst  died  fbv 
dl  mankind.'' 

"  And  Who  is  Jesus  <3iri8t  V*  said  Father  Duago^ 

*  He  is  the  Son  of  God,"  replied  Lilia. 

**  And  how  is  He  the  Son  of  God  t"  said  her  Rerwoia 
Instructor. 

**  I  do  not  know,"  at  loigth  replied  Lilia. 

*'P«adon  me,"  said  he;  "but  I  cannot  accept  that 
answer.  Recal  to  your  mind  our  conversation  of  lost 
'night,  particularly  that  part  which  related  to  God  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  own  perfections." 

The  colour  rushed  to  her  cheeks,  wludi  it  always  did 
when  die  had  conquered  a  difiiculty  and  gwned  a  truth, 
and  she  said,  "Our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  is  the  divine 
YefloMioD  of  all  the  perfection  of  God.    He  is  the  haaa^ 


Mto 


4Una  AMD  TBI 


It 


"^'T 


liftte  produotion  of  God's  oontmnpUtion  of  Himself :  He 
is  Uie  perfect  image  of  Ood  Uie  FatiMr :  He  is  the  second 
Person  of  the  Divine  Trinity." 

"  IVue,"  said  Fatker  Duago ;  **  and  therefore  Ood  ol 
God." 

*  I  have  hrard  and  read  a  great  deal,"  said  Lilia, 
"  about  our  Lord  Jesus  C3irist,  and  I  have  always  loved 
Him  very  much ;  not  only  l>ecause  He  has  saved  me 
from  eternal  death,  but  also  because  He  is  so  good." 

"  My  dear  ohUd,"  said  Father  Duago,  "  our  hoed  Jesus 
CSuist  has  died  for  you  and  for  all  mankind,  and  has 
willed  that  all  should  be  saved :  but  he  has  left  oertain 
oonditions — and  the  first  of  these  is,  Baptism,  by  which 
the  sin  of  Adam,  43alled  *  Ongkul  Sin,'  is  eiqpeUed  the 
soul  for  ever." 

**  What  would  become  «f  my  wwl  if  at  this  momeat  I 
we^e  to  die  f '  said  Lilia. 

**  We  mif^t  h(^  that  the  earnest  denre  you  bow  frel 
to  receive  tUs  Iifo>giviiig  sacrament  would  b«  aeo^>ted," 
replied  Fathw  Duago ;  **  that  you  would  be  beptiaed  in 
desire.  But  durii^  these  maqgr  years  that  your  aoul  laa 
lemained  in  original  ain,  and  eoKseniueBtly  in  •  state  c< 
deadi,,youdo  not  appear  to  have  felt  much  UBeanneas 
undl  now.  And  supposing,  wiuoh  Ood  fivbid,  that  amy* 
Ihuig  were  to  prevent  my  oonferriag  Baptism  en  lyon,  -no«r 
that  you  ardently  dasiredtAad  aU  is  pnpared,  and  that 
having  lost  this  opportanityyou  were  to  neglect  seekiqg 
Mother,  I  eould  not  hqpe  that  you  woidd  be  satved. 
Tour  soul  must  be  purified  from  all  sin  before  ehe  en 
•he  admitted  to  the  pvesenee  of  the  Ood  4)f  all  purity, 
and  mu«:  receive  Ae  tbee  theolpgieal  vurtaMof  VtiAt 
2* 


M 


BOMC   AHD  TIU   AUIT. 


Hope,  and  Charity,  which   aooompany  the  deaariQg 
waters  of  Baptism.** 

"  Does  God  send  these  three  theological  virtues  to  pre- 
pare  th«  way  before  Him,"  said  LUia,  "  by  driving  out 
original  sin  and  making  my  soul  fit  to  receive  Him  I  I 
suppose  so,  as  God  will  never  come  in  contact  with  sin. 
And  are  these  three  virtues  so  many  inferior  intelli. 
genoes  or  ideas  1" 

"  A  virtue  is  a  quality,'*  replied  Father  Duago, «  which 
the  soul  receives,  and  by  which  she  is  enriched  and 
adorned.  What  the  sciences  are  to  the  mind,  the  virtues 
•re  to  the  soul.  Thus  you  rvoroeive  they  are  not  angels, 
but  they  are  conveyed  to  our  souls  by  angels— especially 
by  that  portion  of  the  angelic  hierarchy  who  are  denomi- 
Bated  'the  virtues;'—*  who  drive  away  the  clouds  from 
our  miuds  and  Uluminate  them.'  You  may  therefore 
believe  that  three  of  these  angelic  beings  wUl  bring  you 
from  Almighty  God,  who  is  the  centre  and  source  of  nil 
virtue,  these  three  highest  qualities,  to  enrich  and  adorn 
your  soul— Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  tUt  you  may  be. 
Meve,  hope,  and  love  aU  that  He  has  revealed  by  his 
Church  and  continues  to  reveal— and  that  you  may  do  so, 
not  as  a  barren  theory,  but  vitally,  that  is,  undoubtinglyl 
practically,  perseveringly,  beioically." 

"  And  tiHm,"  cried  Lilia,  "  when  these  qualities  brought 
by  the  angels  have  entered  and  made  my  soul  ready  for 
God,  He  will  fill  my  soul  witii  his  divhutyr 

"He  will  fiU  your  soul  with  his  grace,"  said  Hie 
Father. 

••  But  not  with  his  divinity— not  with  Himselfr  $M 
Jiim.    "What  it  the  grace  of  God  r 


'-•WWMKimi 


wm 


Bom  AMD  nn  absbt. 


"  Tie  gi  v^  »f  God,"  Mkid  Father  Duiigo,  "  it  the  Tirtu* 
of  Got?  umvAyed  to  a  soul." 

*«Tb«  virtue  of  God!"  repeated  LUia;  •* that  it 
God." 

**  But  only  auoh  portion  of  the  virtue  of  God,"  said 
father  Duago,  '*as  would  be  suited  to  the  soul  ot  man, 
which  is  subordinate,  and  dares  not  aspire  to  those  which 
are  properly  the  attributes  of  Ciod.  I  will  enumerate 
them  to  you  some  other  day,  because  our  present  time  ia 
ttmited :  I  will  also,  at  some  convenient  leisure,  tell  you 
.of  all  the  other  virtues  proper  to  man." 

Father  Duago  then  spoke  to  Lilia  of  actual  sin,  and 
desired  her  to  remain  in  the  room  where  he  was  instmot- 
Dg  her ;  and  to  devote  the  interval  of  his  absence  to 
examination  of  her  conscience,  to  sorrow  of  heart  for  all 
ker  sins  of  thought,  word,  deed,  or  omission ;  and  to 
confession  to  Almighty  God,  his  angels  and  saints,  in  a 
Jow  tone  of  voice,  of  any  transgre-  sion  against  his  holy 
law  which  recurred  to  her  memory,  imploring  his  mercy 
and  pardon. 

••  Why  will  you  not  teach  me  how  to  go  properly  to 
confession  to  yourself)  at  the  priett  of  GodT  taid 
lilia. 

**  Because,"  replied  Father  Duago,  *'  the  sacrament  of 
Pennnoe  is  instituted  for  actual  sin  committed  after 
baptism.  The  actual  sin  committed  before  baptism  it 
Intally  washed  away,  together  with  original  tin,  by  the 
Iife-givl%  water  to  die  unccmsoious  infant,  and  to  the 
adult  who,  like  you,  desires  the  saoramoit '  in  holy  fear 
and  love.*"  He  then  placed  in  Lilia's  hand  a  orudfiz, 
telling  her  to  kita  the  taored  wounds  uf  Him,  true  Ood 


Kom  AKD  nn  ai 


tad  true  man,  who  had  etubled  her  by  hit  death  to  pa4< 
(Irom  death  to  life.  Father  Duago  \tit  her  to  obey  hia 
directions. 

A  fnw  minutea  aftor  Mr.  Everard  had  decoyed  away 
Mn.  Mom,  the  Catiiolio  lady  selected  by  the  priest 
arrived ;  and  Lilia's  private  devotions  being  finished,  the 
only  delay  was  in  her  changing  her  coloured  travelling 
dress  for  one  of  white,  emblematical  of  the  purity  about 
to  be  best'  >wed  on  her  soul. 

On  Lilia's  return  in  her  white  robe  to  the  sitting-room^ 
Ihe  door  was  locked,  and  the  sacred  function  oommenood. 
Ulia  luiderstood  Latin,  and  Father  Duago  spoke  distinctly 
fid  vrith  Eolemnity ;  she  therefore  could,  and  did  appr»- 
-  liate  every  subordinate  rite ;  but  when  the  time  arrived 
|>r  the  demand  to  be  made,  "  wilt  thou  be  baptized  V  and 
ihe  had  replied,  "  I  will,"  the  full  sense  of  her  former  risk 
«nd  her  present  privil^e  filled  her  mind — the  colour 
fttriied  to  her  cheeks,  then  fled,  to  leave  her  paler  than 
ever.  She  trembled  with  awe.  Her  soul  was  now  really 
about  to  belong  to  the  divinity — after  whom  she  was  con- 
tinually yearning — to  the  knowledge  of  whom  she  waa 
constantly  aspiring — and  now,  (he  virtue  of  Him  who 
filled  heaven  and  earth  in  his  mysterious  triune,  was,  In 
the  element  of  water,  to  entw  within  and  stamp  on  her 
aoul  hi9  eternal  posseaalon  of  her  whole  bdng.  Kneel- 
ing beifore  the  priest,  her  hair  flowing  on  her  shoulders, 
he  poured  over  her  bended  head  the  watered  life,  saying, 
**  Lilia  Mary,  I  baptise  tiiee  in  the  name  <^  the  Father, 
•nd  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghoat    Amen." 

Olia,  noTf  A  "  member  of  Christ,  a  child  of  God,  and 
fah«rik)r  of  (Jbfi  rdngdom  of  hasvai^  reeeived  the  oanpa> 


iirt»T«l>ri>-fitiiwiiii 


KOMI   AND  TU 


(aiAPTER  IV. 


f\ 


ii  ! 


rkrawall!  jiyetrijrjojr*— mrhom»,ftu«wtlll 
PluynwtM,  and  friendi  belored  in  fondart  tiM. 
No  mon  tie  record  of  our  dayi  n»y  tall 
The  pnyer  uaitad,  or  the  loliaol-room  priMt 

THROuaHOUT  the  little  tour  which  had  been  propoaed  hf 
Mr.  Everard  for  the  benefit  of  those  he  loved,  his  spirits 
DOW  rallied,  not  again  to  flag.  "  Lilia'a  aSair"  had  in« 
volved  him  in  nothing,  and  he  now  sought  to  please  and 
instruct  her  as  they  visited  the  lakes  of  Windermere, 
Derwentwater,  Grassmere,  and  CUsMrater,  with  all  the 
advantages  of  fine  weather,  good  health,  and  good  spirits. 
If  Lilia  at  any  instant  regretted  that  in  the  month  of 
September  the  cascades  and  mountain  streams  were 
dried  up,  she  consoled  herself  the  next  by  runmng  up 
the  dry  beds  of  the  torrents,  which  gave  her  sure  footing 
to  the  very  tops  of  the  mountains.  At  othei  times, 
directed  by  Mr.  Everard,  she  attempted  to  sketdi 
from  nature ;  and,  while  he  corrected  the  errors,  she  sang 
to  him  "Softly  rise,  Ob,  southern  breeate,"  and  "Hark! 
the  lark  at  heave&'s  gate  sings,"  his  two  standard 
favourites.  lli>i«  the  contentment  of  her  elder  friends 
in  Lilia's  happiness  continued  with  but  one  interruption; 
this  wai!  when,  having  ventured  too  daringly  near  the 
edge  of  a  height,  the  ground  partially  gave  way  beneath 
her  feet,  and  she  was  saved  from  destruction  only  b7  ner 
light  vptit^  to  firmer  ground.    She  did  not  feel  alanaed 


}■ 


J 


proposed  b J 
id,  his  spirits 
lair"  had  in* 
a  please  and 
Windermere, 
with  all  the 
good  spirits, 
he  month  of 
treams  were 
r  running  up 
>  sure  footing 
other  times, 
i  to  sketdi 
■ors,  she  sang 
and  "Hark! 
vo  standard 
elder  friends 
interruption: 
gly  near  the 
way  beneath 
1  only  b7  ner 
feel  alarmed 


taMPHWM*  im  - 


KOm  AMD  TBB  AtBtT.  §9 

•t  the  moment  of  the  exertion,  but  when  her  three  frifloda, 
who  were  a  little  in  advance,  turned  to  address  her, 
she  Lad  fiiinted  on  the  turf  and  heath  to  which  aha 
had  sprung. 

As  she  had  been  all  life  and  joy  an  instant  before,  no 
one  could  understand  the  mystery ;  neither  could  Mrs. 
Moss,  on  whose  shoulder  she  leaned  on  reviving,  com* 
prehend  her  first  words — ^but  they  were  understood  by 
the  others — ^"  Oh,  if  I  had  Men  a  v«tk  ago  down  that 
precipice  l"  Father  Duago  then  perceived  how  truly 
she  had  conceived  the  danger  of  her  former  state,  and 
that  spiritual  emotion,  not  physical  terror  had  caused 
her  thus  to  taSaxt. 

The  next  day  Lilia  questioned  her  reverend  instructor 
respecting  the  final  state  of  the  unbaptized,  adding,  "I 
have  never  known,  nor  did  I  think  yesterday,  of  what 
would  positively  have  befidlen  my  soul  had  I  died  with 
out  oven  the  desire  of  baptism.  I  thought  only  of  the 
loss  of  God.*' 

"And  that  was  exactly  the  thought,  and  the  only 
thought  to  have  at  that  time  adnutted,"  said  Fatiiw 
Duago.  "I feel  persuaded  that,  you  returned  Him  thanks 
when  yuu  recovered  from  your  first  emotion,  that  he  had 
granted  you  a  renewal  of  life,  in  which  to  further  know, 
love  and  serve  Him.  Had  you  been  suddenly  kUled  by 
fidling  yesterday  from  the  abrupt  height,  and  as  suddenly 
made  to  appear  before  his  judgmf,nt«eat,  we  might  ho^ie 
that  'jxixt.  would  have  borne  untarnished  your  baptismal 
innocence  aixi  'G^raoe,  as  the  wedding-garment  without 
which  no  one  can  be  admitted  to  the  nuptial  fei> ' . 
nwrefore  you  nust  thrtber  pvaj  that  this  fnA  borit.  o^* 


MMMMMI 


T)iO 


«0M£  km  nm  jomn. 


'life  vjqr  indeed  prove  s  Mening  i?  you,  ard  that  yoa 
may  never  liave  cause  to  ragret  that  barren  or  siniul 
years  liave  followed  tltis  epoch  of  your  eutUy  course ; 
for  remember,  that  to  a  baptized  person  is  still  left  his 
choice  of  good  or  evil." 

"  Oh  1"  cried  Lilia,  "  I  never  will  dwose  evil  I" 

**  And  y«u  must  further  pray  for  graoa,"  said  Father 
Duago,  "not  only  to  resist  evil,  bat  to  choose  good. 
The  w'^d  is  an  active  principle,  it  cannot  remain  dor- 
-mant;  the  heart  is  full  of  aiTections  and  emotions,  uid 
•must  have  an  object  and  recipient  Choose  God  aloiie 
ia  these  your  early  days  of  umocenee:  let  Him  be  ih- 
only  object  and  recipient  of  all  the  powers  of  your  inind, 
wTall  the  afieetions  of  your  heart,  of  ail  the  aq[>irationt>  of 
.your  souL" 

"I  have  ehosen  Hhn,"  said  Lilia;  "I  Imed  Him 
bdbre  I  was  baptised ;  and  now  tlat  I  belong  to  Him, 
••nd  have  reoeived  his  gnMse  in  my  soul,  I  love  Him  sdll 
more.  But  I  am  sorry  to  give  up  a  notion  I  have  had 
ihese  last  two  years— that  my  soul  waa  a  pattide  of  his 
■divinity." 

*'  How  tihen  eouUL  a  soul  ever  be  Umt,"  said  Father 
Doago,  "and  given  up  to  devib  for  all  eternity  1  To 
hold  that  a  pwti<m  of  the  Divini^  oould  become  the 
fk.ortion  of  devils  would  be  Llasphen^,— not  that  you 
•have  been  guilty  of  tliis  in  your  speculatitnu ;  and  idl 
«rrors  of  Suth  previous  to  your  b^tism  Lave  been 
washed  away  for  ever.  You  mnst  now,  however,  'oe- 
iieve  that  yctn  aoul  ia  an  act  of  God's  creation,  though 
mmre  immediately  proceedbg  from  Him  than  your  hitdy } 
•§nt  if  yon  hnve  fUidied  OeDeaia,  «a  I  believe  jou  have, 


mmsmtz 


■llllliMWMlM 


Kbi*  A«tt  Tiii  Aiiii'. 


HI 


jroc  must  remettiber  lUtalt  to  form  our  body  iSod  took  of 
the  dust  of  the  earth,  whidi  'he  had  already  created ;  btit 
to  create  our  soal,  God  breathed  it  forth  from  himself: 
ind  irhile  our  body  after  death  returns  to  the  dnst  Of  ihi 
earth  until  the  general  resurrection,  the  soul,  if  purified, 
returns  immediatctly  to  ber  Qreator." 

**iieturtur  cried  lalia:  **that  conveys  a  delightful 
Mea!" 

"  Yet,"  added  Father  Duago,  "  the  soul  returns  not  to 
become  absorbed  in  God,  but  aliraya  to  remain  as  a  cUa- 
tbud  creature.*  « 

''Andisftwrot^formeto  Tiq(t%t,^8aid  lilia,  "that 
I  can  neither  beoofrue  absorbed  in  the  Divinity,  sor  liave 
tile  Divinity  enter  my  auvif 

^  Yon  can  have  the  Divinity  enter  yom*  soul  T  cried 
I'bdier  Duago.  '**  iVnd  if  his  providence  {trotecto  and  &. 
vours  us  during  th6  remainder  of  our  journey  as  H  has 
UAerio  done.  I  lidpe  to  be  once  niote  the  hunible  'hrstni- 
ment  of  his  great  designs  of  love  towards  yoo.^ 

Lilia  clasped  her  hands,  and  attempted  to  speak,  but 
dould  not ;  then  covering  her  fiuje,  she  vept  such  gemihie 
tears  of  joy  that  Father  Duago,  bimself  much  aflbnted, 
returned  God  thanks  for  all  his  electing  grace  towards 
that  dKMien  soul,'  and  tlwire  was  a  pause  of  some  mimites 
in  tiie  convention. 

Ho  then  Inqvtired  wheAer  ahe  were  aware  of  the  coti- 
dtnual  miracle  of  God's  love  on  all  Cadiblic  altars,  in  the 
most  lioly  sacrament  of  the  body,  blood,  soul,  and  di. 
fkdty  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  tme  God,  and  tirae 
lioignl 

**lkiiek,^t«plteaLDIa,  '*11ikttheCadtoIic'fUth,%lA(ih 


4§  mOM^  AHD  TflB  AMMMJ. 

b  now  my  fitith,  teugfat  that  under  the  appearanoeof  inread 
was  the  body,  and  under  the  appearance  of  wine  was 
the  bleod  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  but  I  did  not  know 
that  his  soul  and  dirinity  were  therein  concealed,  lliis  is 
too  much  joy !" 

"You  will  soon  perceive  that  it  could  not  be  other- 
wise," siud  tho  Reverend  Father.  "  In  the  first  place,  his 
Jicred  humanity  was  never  separated  from  his  divinity, 
ven  when  his  body,  being  parted  from  his  soul  by  death, 
'<:\  in  the  sepulchre — and  this  because  his  Father  was 
divine  and  lus  Mother  human.  Secondly,  with  respect 
to  hi*  soul,  you  are  perfectly  aware  that  on  the  day  of 
Us  resurrection,  his  all-glorious  and  triumphant  soul  rei 
entered  his  now  glorified  body,  to  be  reunited  through  all 
•temity.  It  is  this  glorified  body,  with  its  inseparable 
soul  and  divluity,  that  descends  on  our  altars,  and  enters 
the  breast  of  the  devout  communicant" 

"  Oh !  when  shall  I  have  this  great  hmour  and  hapi^ 
nessl"  cried  Lilia. 

"  If  our  route  homeward,"  replied  Father  Duago,  •*  be 
aooording  to  the  plan  determined  on  last  night,  then  I 
may  hope  that  in  three  days  this  divine  visitor  may  enter 
your  breast." 

Hie  plw  of  their  route  homeward  spokoi  of  by  Fa- 
ther Duago  was  adhered  to ;  and  the  intermediate  thres 
days  having  been  devoted  to  preparata<m  befitting  such 
an  event,  Ulia  received  in  her  innocent  and  loving  breaa* 
thr^  Divinity  after  whom  her  soul  panted,  and  who  so 
absorbed  her  thou^^ts  and  affections  that  she  scarcely 
fbU  regret  at  quitting  the  more  sublime  scenery  of  the 
lakes,  or  ootioed  the  objects  on  the  journey  home,  until 


mt)umfn^-'mm-  --mn    ."'r 


■mMm 


If 


Min  AHA 


Aumr. 


48 


"be 


dw  reentered  tbe  Tdley  <^  Woodbridge,  when  a  nuh  at 
homeaffeotioiu  made  her  heart  beat  and  her  eyes  apaiUe, 
aa,  standing  up  in  the  carriage,  she  watched  the  running 
and  leaping  to  the  garden^te  of  aU  the  affectionate  ohil. 
dren  of  the  vicarage. 

On  parting  from  the  companions  of  his  tour,  just  be- 
fore ratering  the  valley,  Father  Duago  had  given  Mr. 
Everard  a  short  list  of  the  books  desirable  tor  LOia,and 
these  the  latter  brought  her  from  tim«  lo  time  during  the 
following  autumn  and  winter ;  but  no  opportunity  occur 
red  of  which  Mr.  Everard  could  avail  himself  to  procure 
her  the  spiritual  aids  of  the  Church. 

Lilia  had,  by  Divine  Providence,  lt«en  long  trained  to 
solitary  thought,  and  had  noir  itm  powerful  assistance  of 
grace  to  render  those  thoughts  full  of  profit     The  spir. 
itual  events  of  her  little  tour  to  the  Lakes  having  been 
rapidly  condensed,  and  connected  with  scenes  of  novelty 
and  excitement,  Father  Duago  had  desired  her  to  dedU 
eate  half-an-hour  every  morning  to  meditation  and  thanka. 
giving  on  the  sacrament  of  Baptism,  and  halfwin-hour 
every  evening  to  meditotion  and  thanksgiving  on  the 
sacrament  of  the  most  holy  Eucharist:  she  was  also  to 
«xamue  eadi  day  at  nocnn,  and  at  night,  whether  any  sin 
of  thought,  word,  or  deed,  had  tarnished  the  baftismal 
purity  of  her  soul ;  and  if  so,  she  was  to  followthe  pen! 
tential  exerdses  he  had  prescribed  to  her.    All  this  was 
put  in  practice  by  the  docile  girl,  who  also  gradually 
withdrew  fh>m  tha  theological  lectures  of  the  tutor,  at 
which  hour  she  privately  arranged  with  the  different 
■UHters  to  send  for  her  to  take  her  lessons. 
In  other  riaspeoto  the  sympathetic  tie^  of  studiea  and 


■^  -r 


PBBIB 


•iiiKiMMiiili 


MB 


-44 


RCIMS    MiD 


reorefttioiw  continued  «U  ss  MO*!  between  LBfai  «sid  Imt 
brotbera,  until,  in  the  sunnnw  of  the  folk>wii^  year,  aa 
.ftUeagroasing  subject  of  interest  lurose,  which  to  IMkk 
.proved  a  Btarting4>oint  to  higher  and  better  tbmga. 

A  college  friend  of  their  tiither,  who  had  been  stajring 
Mine  time  in  the  neighboi»rhood,  but  who  lived  on  the 
■ea^xMst  and  amused  himself  with  sailing  a  yacbt,  invited 
the  two  eldest  sons  and  their  tutor  to  accompany  hiifi 
Musk  to  his  marine  villa,  and  join  a  party  thai  edleoting 
to  go  on  board  his  ya<^t,  whiofa  was  liestined  diat  year 
for  Norway,  where  lunaelf  and  odier  amateur  fiahermeB 
were  to  catch  and  «at  aalnon.  Never  w«s  mvitatioa 
more  aooeptaUe,  e8pe<HidIy  as  Ike  emulation  «f  tiw  bnv 
then  had  been  <fhaa  piqued  by  the  contempt  wltii  which 
Captain  Armytage  had  looked  at  thehr  fisbfa^-taclde  at 
Woodbridge,  declaring  «kait  one  Norway  aakoen  would 
dash  it  all  away. 

LUia  packed  up  lieir  brothers^  trunks— was  g^  they 
w«are  going  to  be  so  happy,  and  begged  Harry,  who  waa 
the  best  draughtsmfm,  to  brmg  her  bade  sketches  of  tiiat 
sublime  scenery.  She  did  her  best  to  be  mi^jBammoos ; 
but  when  everything  was  ready  to©  soon,  and  she  waa 
sitting  between  them,  holding  the  hand  of  eacH,  ^aad  Fns 
deriok  s«d,  "  How  1  wish  you  were  going  too,  LSI  T 
the  contrast  vividly  presented-lo  her  mind  of  the  joy  of 
going,  and  the  blank,  the  hmelinesa,  tfie  misery  of  not 
going,  was  too  much  fbr  ber.  She  laid  her  head  on 
Fred'a  shoulder,  and  wept  and  sobbed,  till  Harry  tug. 
gesled,  "Letusaskmyfttherr* 

Then  up  sprang  Lilia :  "  Oh,  yes,  dearest  Harry !  tbera 
tl  tirae-4here  is  nearly  an  hour.    I  will  pack  «p  (Im 


•    T 


Aim  vie 


4fi 


MNne  little  trunk  I  tooc  te  th»  dear  Lakes,  and  Fred  and 
you  shell  tie  up  my  books  in  one  of  the  fiaiiing'hagB 
while  I  am  upstairs." 

So  off  she  flew,  and  in  leas  duui  twmty  minutes  they 
had  fetched  down  her  trunk,  had  bagged  the  books,  and 
all  now  awaited  the  re^>pening  of  dM  study  door,  where 
their  fiither,  mother,  and  Oaptain  Armytage  were  in  di»> 
course  too  deep  to  be  interrupted — the  subject  bein^  a 
request  that,  on  hia  return  ftom  Norway,  Ckptain  Army< 
tagc  might  repeat  his  visit,  and  claim  the  hand  of  the  fiur 
Emma;  having,  on  the  preceding  evening,  obtained  fbom 
hor  this  reference  to  her  parents. 

At  length,  just  when  Mr.  Eyerard  had  driven  up  to 
the  door  **  to  see  the  boys  otC,"  the  study  door  opened^ 
and  the  astonished  parents  beheld  the  young  Lilia  all 
prepared  to  start  without  an  invitati  n;  while  the 
brothers  entreated^  and  detain  Armyta^  smiled  and 
bowed ;  and  on  Mrs.  Sinclair^  tellmg  lilia  that  ladiea. 
were  not  intended  in  the  invitation,  the  Captain  proposed 
that  Mrs.  Sinclair  and  a//  the  daughters  should  set  saO 
for  Norway. 

But  this  was  negatived ;  and  while  all  the  fiunily  col- 
lected, save  Emma,  and  eadi  one  had  something  to  say 
indicative  of  their'  astonishment,  their  disapprobatiim, 
(heir  scandal,  and  their  terror,  Mr.  Everard  whispered  to 
the  weephig  Lilia,  "  I  have  something  in  store  for  you, 
diild,  better  than  Norway.** 

'*0h!  better  than  Norway!**  sud  she:  '*how  can 
thatber 

**  Yes,  I  tell  you,**  returned  he,  *•  better  than  Norway." 
tlieii  drawing  the  parents  a  little  amde,  be  said  that  he 


% 


i3   ' 


ff  BOMB  An  TBI  ABBir. 

would  take  Lilia  home  to  Mrs.  Moaa  for  •  day  or  two  to 
unuN  her,  and  that  they  might  then  peihaps  manage 
another  excursion,  to  break  thu  terrible  parting. 

This  proposal  was  a  great  relief  to  them :  they  returned 
thanks,  and  Lilia,  scarcely  knowing  what  was  being  done 
with  her,  was  placed  once  more  in  Mr.  Everard's  carriage^ 
with  her  little  trunk  and  her  bag  of  books,  when,  just  as 
Frederick  was  assuring  her  that  they  should  travel  in 
company  almost  as  flir  as  Bumleigh,  Mr.  Everard  called 
out  from  his  driving-seat,  "Where  is  the  little  green 
harp  I  gave  Lilly  in  the  winter  1  and  the  tuning-key  and 
the  box  of  strings?" 

All  were  fetehed;  the  bewildered  girl,  surrounded  by 
her  little  possessions,  and  scarcely  noticed  but  as  a  rid- 
dance, was  driven  off  to  make  way  for  the  other  carriage, 
and  only  young  Willy,  running  in  from  tlie  garden  to  bid 
Us  brothers  fiurewell,  called  out  **  Qoodl»ye,  UUj,"  ud 
tea  ika  kft  har  hooM  Ar  •««  * 


mmi'mmummmm 


tm 


m^ 


■Om  AMD  TUB 


«t 


CHAPTER  V 


Mi 


A  aMM«I  wrtk^Mk*  li  tbriMd, 
Vptaraioff  til  our  hoatl  ftiaiidttiM  i 
••Onwudto  Rom* !"  if  bow  Um  wiwd, 
Fmb  •vtrr  •!!•  ud  •TcmUUoa: 

*  Wbt,  bless  my  hesit  and  soul,"  exclaimed  the  worthy 
iCrs.  Moss,  "if  hen  im't  Miss  Lilia  come  back  with 
master!  Well,  how  you're  grown,  Miss. — But  what's 
the  matter!  Oh,  your  brothers  are  gone  to  Norway! 
Well,  pleasuring,  I  suppose.  It  is  fit  they  should  haT« 
tfieir  turn.  You  must  not  be  selfish,  you  know,  my  dear 
Miss  Lily,  and  periiaps  we  may  take  a  little  jaunt  agaia 
somewhere.  I  riwuld  not  object  myself.  Why,  whers 
is  the  key  of  your  little  trunk  1" 

*« Oh,  it  is  hi  Fred's  pocket!"  excbimed  Lilia;  "ha 
pot  it  on  his  own  key-iing  to  be  safe,  and  I  put  Harry's 
pooketoompass  into  a  comer  of  my  trunk  for  him  till 
we  should  get  on  dedL    Poor  Harry !" 

Here  was  another  weeping  fit 

** Oh,"  cried  Mrs.  Moss,  "so  you  expected  to  go  with 
thcml  But  how  could  you  go  so  fiv  with  boys  and  men  1 
lUs  ia  very  childish,  lUsa  Lilia ;  and  you  are  grown  too 
tall  and  womanly  for  such  bold  amusements,  lliere !  I 
oedare  my  key  of  the  hot  closet  just  serves  to  oponthe 
trunk ;  but  I  can't  qpare  it,  because  of  the  bottles  cf 
Madeira.  HI  get  you  a  new  key.  Why  you  have  had 
M  frflsfa  frodca  nnoe  wa  went  to  the  Likea !    I  woodat 


jtltiitaimtmiM 


^ 


4ltt-  Boin  Ain»  tn  abut. 

tUt  Mr.  Everard  never  thinka  of  preMnting  you  with  • 
new  dress,  since  you  we  such  *  fcvourite,  and  .lie  mskes 
you  so  mmny  presents,  one  w»y  or  another.    But  me» 
never  think  of  dresses  unless  they  have  had  wives.   Look 
here.  Miss  Ulia,  my  dear,  here  is  a  whole  piece  of  fine, 
elear,  white  muslin,  with  a  pretty  little  hem  and  tucks 
ready  wove  in  th«  breadths.    It's  wondwrfol  the  skill  of 
manufacturing  in  these  days.    Well,  I  only  mean  to  say, 
my  dear,  that  if  you  will  but  accept  this  for  your  best 
evening  frock,  that  I  shall  be  most  proud  and  pleased : 
and  you  don't  deprive  me  of  U  at  all ;  for  1  bought  it  ik 
great  baigvn,  thinking  to  make  new  window-curtaina. 
Now  smUe  again,  and  say.  '  yes,'  and  I'U  have  it  mada 
lip  in  a  twinkling." 

LUi»did  smile,  kissed  Mrs.  Moss,  and  accepted  the 
naw  dress;  but  could  not  yet  banish  the  too  endearin« 
t^oui^ts  that  were  wound  round  the  key  and  the 
compass. 

In  the  eveaing  Mr.  Eveiaid  informed  her  that  oe  waa 
going  to  take  her  aoroaa  the  sea  to  Bdgium  and  ei>«> 

^here. 

«  But  is  this  better  than  Norway  r  said  Ulia. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  he,  '♦and  when  there  you  will  tell 

meaot" 

The  nert  morning  Lilia  accompanied  Mr.  Everard  to, 
the  CMholie  chi^,  where,  after  eleven  months'  suspeii' 
sion  from  aU  CathoUo  privUegea,  she  once  more  haara 
MMa.  She  was  then  taken  mto  the  parlour  of  the  chcfel* 
bouse,  where,  after  waiting  a  few  minutes,  they  were 
Inined  by  the  Reverend  Mr,  CJonway  the  Celebrant,  fol- 
Vwwd  bj  f i«*«r  »W    -0|H!*«iedLBi.»«hH»PI 


rou  with  • 

;lie  mskei 

But  me» 

^es.   Look 

)ce  of  fine, 

•nd  tuclu 

the  >kUl  of 

ean  toMy, 

your  beat 

d  pleated : 

bou|{ht  it  Ik 

iw-Gurtaiitf- 

re  it  made 

icepted  the 
>  endearinfi 
X    and  the 

thatneiraa 
a  and  elM^ 

ilia. 

oil  wUl  tdl 

Everard  to, 
Ltbs'  •uapeB' 
more  heard 
rtheohiH>el> 
,  they  were 
lebrant,  fol* 
"happi 


Bom  Ann  nn  aibst.  4i 

thouglits  are  now  ooming  into  my  mind  of  fait  year  !** 
The  ounveraation  which  (ullowed  ooniirmed  this  feeling; 
and  befbre  Lilia  left  the  chapol-boum  she  had  arranged  to 
make  her  confesaion  to  Father  Duago  on  the  fiillowing 
morning,  after  which  she  waa  to  receive  once  more  the 
adorable  Sacrament  All  this  took  place,  and  on  the 
third  day,  Mr.  Everard,  finding  her  not  only  calm,  but 
cheerful,  left  her  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Moss,  and  rode 
over  to  the  vicarage  to  announce  to  the  parents  that  Lilk 
was  a  Ouristian  and  a  Catholic,  and  that  henceforth  h« 
engaged  to  adopt  her. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Mr.  Everard  could  find  the 
amallest  space  in  Mra.  Sinolair's  mind  to  hisert  *  LiUa's 
affiUr.**  Emma's  proposed  marriage  had  brought  to  light 
an  engagement  of  Susan's,  which  she  had  eoooealed  Ae 
nearly  two  years,  and  aA»r  upraiding  and  fiiinUng,  Mn; 
Stodaur  had  forgiven  the  delinquent  and  her  lover,  a 
young  kwyer  in  Elverton,  and  the  double  marriage  waa 
to  take  pkoe  in  November.  Then  followed  the  subject 
of  Oxford,  the  boys,  the  bishop,  and  the  tutor;  so  that, 
although  Mr.  Everard  had  three  times  pronounced  dM 
name  of  LUia,  he  was  each  time  interrupted  by, "  Exoum 
me,  Sir,  but  I  was  just  going  to  mention,  Ac,"  till  driven 
at  last  into  one  of  his  fits  of  desperation,  he  started  up, 
and  ezchdmed,  **!  will  not  excuse  you,  Madam,  nor 
70ur  cursed  partiality !  Your  daudit«r  Lilia  ImmI  bead 
dead— •• 

•* Dead r  shrieked  Mrs.  Sfaiclair.    "When!    Howr 

"Had  been  dead  for  sixteen  years,  and  passed  fiom 

tfeadi  to  life  last  year  by  odier  care  than  yours.    She  waa 

4«ad  in  origbal  ain,  and  was  then  bi^tixed  and  mate  » 


■.W....,'i»4.!i.!«!W...-. 


•'■--'f'-. 


10 


•OMB  AKB  Tm  Asnr. 


Cktholio ;  and  from  this  day  I  adopt  her,  eqaall}  witk  < 
other,  whom  1  do  not  nartw.     Whether  she  beooma  • 
wife  or  a  nun,  she  will  receive  her  portion  from  w 

Mrs.  Sinclair,  who  was  hoping  for  portions  a 
BuBon  aod  Emma,  did  not  venture  any  reply  but  Uianka, 
and  Mr.  Everard  sat  down  again,  and  informed  her  that 
he  intended  to  take  Ulia  abroad,  and  to  place  her  whera 
her  happiness  and  spiritual  education  would  be  the  best 
secured.  "  I  shall  write  a  few  lines  to  Edmund,"  said  he, 
*•  and  perhaps  may  ride  over  here  again  before  we  start" 
Thus  ended  the  long-dreaded  announcement  to  the  pa. 
rents,  now  performed  under  such  &TOurable  circumstances 
liat  it  had  scanjely  affected  any  nerves  but  Us  own. 

On  Mr.  Everard's  return  to  his  home  he  found  Lilia 
kuaUy  employed  for  Mrs.  Moss  in  picking  raspberries  for 
preserves :  but  after  eating  a  great  many  he  sauntered  on 
10  an  arbour,  and  called  to  Lilia  to  join  him,  which  she 
had  scarcely  done  when  she  was  attracted  by  a  be*  '^d 
bush  of  blush-roses  which  grew  at  the  entrance  <» 

arbour,  and  to  which  she  directed  Mr.  Everard  - 
tion.  "  For,"  said  she,  **  have  you  never  remarked,  Sir, 
that  it  is  seldom  a  blush-rose  is  perfect ;  there  is  so  oftan 
a  worm  within  or  a  blight  over  it,  while  these  seem  all 
to  have  escaped  1"  As  lilia  stooped  over  the  ruse-buab, 
and  then,  feeling  rather  tired,  sat  kneeling  beride  it,  in* 
apeoting  the  ftowers,  Mr.  Everard  contemplated  the  plo- 
ture  before  him  with  the  more  affection  and  admiratkm 
from  the  dium  he  had  now  given  the  living  flower  to  hia 
paternal  care.  "  Lily,"  said  he,  "  can  you  find  me  some 
points  for  meditation  in  what  you  have  just  remaiked  of 
theUuskroser 


BOIL^  AMD  TIB  ABBBT. 


ii 


**!  would  muck  rkttwr  listen  to  your  pointi,  Sir,** 
replied  Lilis ; "  for  I  *m  sure  that  you  have  already  found 
them." 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  I  have  always  considered  the  bluslw 
rose  to  be  as  fit  an  emblem  of  innooence  as  the  lily ;  but 
I  had  not  remarked,  as  you  have  done,  the  worm  and  tha 
blight.  These  we  may  look  upon  as  sin  within,  from  an 
evil  natjrCjand  sin  without,  from  temptation;  and  if  you 
will  pluck  a  sufficient  number  now  to  make  a  garland  fux 
your  hair,  I  shall  be  reminded  perhaps  to  finish  the  medi* 
tation  after  dinner ;  for  I  perceive  John  now  bringing  me 
the  crossKiountry  post-bag,  which  will  occupy  me  till 
then." 

Lilia  immediately  commenced  to  pluck  and  weave  a 
garland  of  roses,  buds  and  leaves,  with  the  graceful  and 
poetical  taste  so  natural  to  her ;  and  was  r<' warded  fur 
har  prompt  obedience  by  receiving  from  Air.  Everard, 
directly  she  had  placed  the  garland  on  her  head,  a  letter 
fW>m  her  brothers  just  arrived  in  the  identical  tiountry 
poct-bag. 

The  principal  part  of  the'  hurried  letter  was  ftxmi 
Harry,  announcing  the  safe  arrival  of  the  pocket-compass, 
and  a  few  lines  firom  Frederidc  stating  that  he  did  not 
send  back  the  key,  as  he  conclu«!<)d  the  box  had  been 
opened  long  since,  and  that  he  *  wouM  keep  the  key  for 
poor  Lill's  sake  I"  The  postscript,  whici>  was  dated  "  <m 
board  the  yacht,"  was  "■  We  are  both  very  happy,  hurrah !" 
therefore  the  tears  which  had  started  to  Lilia's  eyes  were 
plded  with  the  reflected  sunshine  of  their  happiness, 
and  she  had  eoon  to  make  her  own  little  preparations 
■gain  for  travelling;  for  the  dinner  was  scaroely  oo» 


M 


BOm  AN»  l-BI  AMwr. 


duded,  vni  LUia  ready  Amp  ^he  expected  meditatioD  on 
the  blush-roses,  when  Father  Duaflco  and  another  gentle* 
man,  dressed  like  himself  oaino  on  ooiiidential  buaicoai 
to  Mr.  Kverard,  and  Lilia,  after  veoeiving  th*  Mewing  of 
the  fi>rmer,  withdrew.  In  about  aai  hour  Mrs.  Mose  wa« 
diisired  to  get  everything  in  readiness  to  tmvel  to  Dover 
en  the  following  day ;  thenne  to  cross  to  Ostend,  and  on 
to  Bruges  by  railroad.  **  There,"  added  he,  **  we  must 
port  Aom  oui  little  girl,  but  you  need  not  tall  her  so. 
She  is  to  proceed  with  some  religious  ?«dies  to  Rome." 

It  was  then  early  in  August,  and  admirable  weather 
for  the  Norway  e»«urMon,  but  pathe?  penitential,  thought 
Mr.  Everard,  to  travel  south.  ''  Howrver,"  said  he,  '*  it 
is  always  flresh,  if  not  col<J,  up  the  Rhine,  which  is  the 
way  they  havo  been  advired  to  travel,  and  then  I  oonoluda 
they  will  cross  to  the  Rhone  at  Lyons,  and  go  down  that 
river  to  Avignon,  and  get  oa  thoi  Meditwranean  at  Mar 
eeilles,  and  not  land  till  they  reaoh  Qvitn  VeodUa;  ao 
that  nearly  the  whole  way  will  be  by  water.  Ilia  beet 
method  for  rel^^us  women.  And  Moss,"  added  he, 
*<  lind  where  tilia  is,  and  kxA  well  at  the  garland  she 
baa  on  her  head.  V  you  «an  get  auoh  a  one  anywhera 
before  we  past,  bi|y  it  and  bring  it  to  me." 

**Z>o  you  mean  real  iowern,  siis  or  artifiGiidf*  !»• 
^red  Mrs.  Moss. 

"  Alas  V^  replied  he,  *•  they  mask  be  the  latter,  aa  mora 
•odurii^  And  tell  Uly,  if  she  has  any  time  to  qMUPe,  to 
come  to  ring  to  me,  with  her  little  haL'p,for  it  is  hav  laal 
orening  at  Bumleigh." 

When  arrived  at  Dover,  Lilia  for  the  first  time  bshald 
Aa  oowb;  and,  kBowing  nothing  of  the  broader  wmv«b 


ditetkMi  on 
tlier  gentle* 
ial  buucoM 

I  bl«Mii>g  of 
s.  MowwM 
rel  to  Dover 
lUcAy  «od  on 
I,  M  we  must 
ull  ber  so. 
to  Rome.'* 
able  weather 
ntial,  thought 
♦said  he,  "it 
which  is  the 
len  I  oonoluda 
go  down  that 
nflM  at  Mar 

VeodiU;  w 
IT.  The  beet 
^"  added  he, 

garland  she 
«e  anywhere 

kvti&nalf"  in- 


I 


',aamofe 
ae  to  spare,  to 
Uiihavlaat 

itimehslMld 
iroader  w»vet 


«f  thfe  Adantie,  gaaed  hi  admiration  <m  (iMte  of  the 
British  CSiannel,  and  felt  all  the  wonder  and  awe  whieb 
the  had  expeoled  fa  watebing  the  liioHs  beyond  which 
the  waters  of  the  mighty  deep  dare  not  advance. 

''The  thought  of  God  I  The  work  of  God  I"  she  e>. 
dammed,  and  then  remairuid  m  silence,  which  was  inter' 
rupted  only  by  a  Tetiatt  todie  hotel  fin*  refresaments ;  for 
that  same  evening  they  went  en  board  the  steamer :  and 
tile  light  breew  wUeh  had  improved  the  majestic  appear* 
anoe  of  the  sea  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day  haviiig 
lulled,  Lilia  remained  on  decli  during  the  passage,  feeling 
B»  k^oonveaienoe  but  hd^ger,  aad  alternately  thinking  of 
her  brothers  (also  sailing  on  -  the  ocean),  and  of  the 
rablime  eitpMwe  of  wstnrs  Created  by  the  fiat  of  the 
Almif^ty! 

At  Ortend  they  eat  and  slept;  aad  in  the  momiag; 
afW  mans,- Mr.  Everard  and  Lilia  rejouwd  Mrs.  Moss  at 
the  hotel,  and  they  entered  the  steam-train  for  Brage«'"i 
both  Mrs.  M«n  and  Lilia  finding  it  very  strange  to  be 
actually  travelling  by  so  easy  a  transition  in  another 
country  Uian  their  own ;  and  while  they  were  amusing 
each  other  by  recounting  their  various  in^presriocs  by 
sea  and  land,  Mr.  Everard  silmtly  reeriled  his  earlier 
days  of  (ravel  fa  the  Low  Coontriea,  and  »he  historical 
and  stirring  events  fa  whidi  they  had  been  so  proline. 
Brugee,  Liege,  and  Ghent  he  was  especidly  |0ad  to  r» 
visit,  an<^  as  he  drew  near  the  formei'  city  and  recognised 
the  old  masses  of  heavy  architecture,  wUoh  he  would  not 
have  lightened  by  an  fach,  he  nearly  forgot  the  purpose 
of  Us  present  tMt,  and  that  more  of  emotien  swaictd 


^1 


Tf'=- 


Hi 


kt  aom  AVD  nu  abbit. 

Uir.  at  Bruges,  than  ereo.  oondgning  the  young  UMm  inta 
othnr  hands. 

After  having  shown  Lilia  the  principal  ardutectural 
wonders  of  the  city,  he  in*^  )8d  her  that  she  would  that 
evening  proceed  towards  Cologne  on  the  Rhine,  in  com* 
pany  and  under  the  protection  of  t-  iligious  ladies, 
who,  with  a  reverend  friend  and  a  fe.  Jie  servant,  were 
going  on  business  to  Rome. 

"To  Rome !"  exclaimed  Lilia,  following  Mr.  Everard 
into  the  sitting-room  of  their  hotel.  **  But  you  are  going 
also,  I  hope,  and  Mrs.  Mossl" 

**  No,"  replied  he ;  "  Moss  and.  I  must  travel  hack  to 
Old  EngUmd." 

**  Oh !"  cried  Lilia,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  grie^  **  why  am 
I  always  to  be  losuig  and  changing  the  friends  I  lovef 

"  She  under  whose  express  care  you  will  be,"  said 
Mr.  Everard,  "  cannot  be  deemed  any  change  from  those 
you  love," 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Lilia.  **  Who  is  this 
bdyr 

Mr  Everard  turned  away,  bnt  as  )ie  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  he  began  to  hum  the  air,  **  Oh,  no,  we 
ne/Ver  mention  her." 

"  llien  I  know  who  it  is !"  cried  Lilia,  sprinj^ 
towards  him.  "  Just  tell  me — only  tell  me,  if  I  am 
ri^t!"  And  she  whispered  in  his  ear  an  inaudible 
Mme. 

**  Well,  well  r  said  he,  resuming  his  walk,  "  perhaps 
k  is  she." 

** Hmo,  oh!  what  happbeaal"  said  Lilia,  the  colon 


Bou  Am  raa  abut. 


M 


raabiBg  to  her  Owe.  «  And  who  oonlrired  all  tliisi 
Was  it  Father  Duago  I  And  am  I  to  be  actually  toivel 
Vng  up  that  majestic  river,  the  Rhine— and  seeing  aioun 
tains  and  cascades,  and  ruins  of  castles  and  abbeys  I— 
and  all  in  the  company  of  her  I  love  best  on  earth,  ex- 
cept Fred  and  Harry  t  Oh !  bow  good  of  you !  How 
goodofGodP 

Mr.  Everard  ceased  to  hum  the  air,  and  drew  out  hia 
handkerchief;  whidi  Lilia  perceiving,  she  remafaied  hi 
that  silence  so  full  of  timid  thou^t  to  a  young  fenm 
when  tlie  smsibilities  and  mysteries  of  her  elder*  an> 
bemg  partially  disclosed  to  her. 

In  slKtutan  hour  from  that  tipie  an  elderly  benevolent 
looldng  goitleman  entered,  who  proved  to  be  the  English 
priest  come  to  fetdi  Lilia  to  the  other  hotel,  whwe  her 
religious  relative  was  awaitmg  her ;  and  Mr.  Everard  to 
•void  anodier  parting,  told  Mrs.  Moss  and  Lilk  that 
perhaps  they  might  meet  again  at  Liege  or  Gologne^ 
and  then  himself  aocompauied  the  priest  and  LiH'i  to  tha 
hotel  where  she  was  expected. 

They  mounted  two  pail's  of  stairs;  the  rev<inend  ge». 
tieman  opened  a  door  and  udterod  hi  LiUa,  whOe  ib, 
Everard  waited  outside,  till  hearing  a  once  fiunUiarvoioe 
bid  her  welcome,  he  hurried  away  to  his  own  hotel  and 
his  own  room,  where  he  locked  the  door  fiw  an  hour. 

On  the  fullowing  morning,  havmg  asoertabed  that  the 
party  he  wished  not  to  meet,  but  to  tbllow,  had  started  on 
the  r%'ening  int^Mided,  Mr.  Everard  took  Mrs.  Moss  to 
Liege,Ghent,  Brussels,  Cologne,  up  the  Rhhie  to  Coblenti, 
then  back  again  to  Cologne  and  Liege,  where  he  f«mahied 
•  fortnight— this  befaig  his  &vourite  of  the  Ilemiab 


ISBBIISI 


■  I..-..^-...-  — -^  ■ 


§$  MMn  AiiB  taa  ▲■■». 

dtitSi  "Rv  Iw  recalled  aloud  (a  practk»  to  whieh  Mm 
Mom  was  aocoBtomed)  all  the  principal  war  atrugglea 
•od  dougfatjT  deeds  of  wUch  Flandem  had  be^  the 
«cene :— ^  ttout  burghere  with  their  MTeral  nuuterst  or 
nsiirpen  from  FntDoe,  England,  or  Spain ;  the  Duke  of 
Uurgundy  and  his  dauf^ter— the  in&ipifioent  Qiarles  the 
Fiftb— the  Govemess  of  the  Netherlands— the  Duke  of 
Alv»— the  Counts  Maurice,  Egmont  and  Horn,  &o. 

He  also  recalled  the  life  of  St  Juliana,  native  of  liege, 

•od  heKMBO  in  religion  of  both  active  and  oontemfdalive 

jfe :  be  recounted  her  qMritual  &vourt,  and  temporal 

afflictions  and  perseoutinos ;  and  endeavoured  to  make 

Jfn.  Mosa  comprehend  and  ^^ecnate  the  vision  of  the 

moon,  with  a  part  wanting  to  its  full  oiroumferoiee— the 

divine  deolaraticm  that  this  ngnified  a  fotival  wanting  to 

the  Qiurdi— 4he  recluse  Eva— the  difficulUes  attendant 

on  establishing  the  diviudy  intimated  festival  of  Corpus 

Christi— the  diaige  of  novelty,  of  innovation;  the  plea 

tiiat  Maunday  Thursday  was  the  old  and  suffideat  day 

for  celebrating  the  sacramental  miracle  of  love — Juliana, 

.•b«id<med  and  upbraided  by  every  one,  nearly  losing 

.  courage — her  exiled  and  wandering  life — her  mortal  end, 

as  a  reduse,  fbll  of  iSuth  in  the  promises  revealed — the 

canons  of  Liege— His  Holiness  Urban  die  Fourth-^t. 

Thomas  of  Aquinas,  and  the  sublime  oflSco  of  the  most 

Holy  Sacrament — the  glorious  establishment  <^  the  festi- 

val  of  Corpus  Domini  throughout  the  whole  Churdi  iu 

1264,  and  the  recf^ition  of  sanctity  of  St.  Juliana. 

As  Mr.  Everaid,  with  a  French  life  of  St  Juliana  in 
his  hand,  recounted  all  the  wise  and  prudent  sayings  ol 
hor  petseMtors,  with  the  fyi  ocmviction  that  theirs  was 


^1^ 


■■ 


tHMoi  Am  tn  jMut, 


•r 


not  the  tHsdom  of  the  Spirit,  but  thai  of  which  it  is  aaid, 
**  Not  many  wiw^  not  many  prodent  shall  SDler  the  Ung- 
doni  of  lieaven,**  the  sudden  remembranoe  of  Ids  own 
■entiments,  arowed  to  Father  Duago  in  eonnectioB  with 
a  living  religious,  startled  and  perplexed  him.  The  oasea 
seemed  nearly  similar,  exoept  thMt,  instead  of  the  mighty 
work  allotted  to  St  Julians,  his  Hvhig  friend,  hi  ODna» 
quenoe  ot  *  vision  in  bur  cell  and  oAst  supernatural 
declwrations  of  Ood's  wil],  mi^t  but  to  establish,  in  oM 
Mftired  convent,  the  religious  institute  revealed  to  her. 

"  Moss,"  said  he,  "  I  will  gohome  to>morrow.  I  mu»k 
tpeak  to  Father  Dnago  about  an  aflhir  of  Importaaoe,  ttd 

must  get  at  some  papers  loeked  up  at  home." 

**  Very  well,  air,**  add  Mrs.  Moss :  "  we  don't  tak«  long 
|ir»fiarii!g;  and  I  do  kMp  thinkiqg  a  good  deal  about 
Mtora  preaervMk** 

Aoeovdingly  on  the  following  evening  they  left  Liegtt; 
Mid  in  1«M  than  t  wwdc  Mr.  Bverard  w«s  looUng  at  his 
pi^toB,  and  Mrs.  Moss  at  her  frmtrirm,  te  their  oM 
Inine  at  Bimdeigh. 

One  nrgent  motive  to  retami  boihe,  oooMqueAt  c:.  tin 
Htm  tnrin  of  thought  w^jgested  to  Mr.  Sveraid  by  tlM 
tepeniMl  of  the  lUb  efSt  JttltaM  was  that  Faiher  DuagCf, 
whMe  eoimsds  had  beeome  aswsiary  to  Mm,  folght  ba 
Men  dooHnaaded  baek  ttwtk  Eaverton  Hall  to  8leffy< 
hntst}  mA  Hallrsl  e«r«Mi  returtJng  lM«wwi»tot» 
cure  a  visit  from  him. 

Fathsr  DMgft  did,  hi  truth,  etpeel  vsary  stfott  m  quit 

Brwtca,  and  iIm  all  whMi,  humaidy  speiddng,  Oat  ml^ 

•loB  might  have  Immd  to  hfan;  and  was  prepared  toliatfa 

1%  if  itr  mrntf  fat  Oa  tmm  spktl  «r  • 

8* 


■I 


IIMWMW 


r 


I 


M  BOHB  AMD  THE  AMMKt. 

oreatures,  wbioh  hit  superiors  had  already  proved  wbaa 
they  sent  him  there.  But  those  who  had  obtained  from 
the  Society  the  unusual  boon  of  possessing  at  onoe  a  near 
kinsman,  an  accomplished  scholar,  and  a  devoted  priest, 
were  not,  like  him,  indifferent  to  the  change.  Hie  lord 
of  the  manor.  General  Carrington,  now  raised  to  the  peer- 
(ige  as  Baron  Elverton,  a  dormant  title  to  which  he  had 
loi^  laid  claim,  bad  received  the  private  intimation  that 
he  was  about  to  be  appointed  (Jovemor-Gieneral  of  In- 
dia ;  and  amongst  his  distant  preparations  for  that  ho- 
nourable exile,  had  hoped  to  leave  his  son,  a  youth  of 
fourteen,  under  the  care  of  his  maternal  unde,  Father 
Duago,  on  the  estate,  to  which  he  wished  him  to  become 
more  attached.  Lady  Elverton  was  also,  if  not  more, 
disappointed.  Who  could  supply  Father  Duago's  place 
as  confessor  to  those  of  the  household  who  were  to  be 
pensioned  and  retiuned  at  the  Hall  during  the  expected 
five  years  of  absence,  especially  her  &ithful  Spanish  fol- 
lowers, who  had  made  no  progress  in  English?  litis 
latter  question  was  not  so  ^cult  to  determine,  as  the 
Society  of  Jesus,  in  the  humble  priest's  opinion,  could 
easily  send  a  confessor,  understanding  Spaaidi,  who 
would  more  than  supply  his  place  to  the  household :  but 
revpeoUng  his  young  nephew  he  did  ponder,  supplicating 
Heaven  for  li^^t  to  direct  him ;  and  at  the  end  of  some 
days  he  advised  Lord  Elverton  to  place  hk  am  at  tba 
College  of  Noblemen  in  Rome. 

**In  that  case,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  **!  will  take  him 
there  myself.  I  prefer  going  overlaud  to  bdia;  anS 
Beatrice,  and  the  young  ladies  accompanying  her,  have 
that  mode  quite  at  heart    We  oould  also  make  part  ot 


■i 


■ONE  AHD  TBB  ABBIT.  S$ 

the  journey  without  tearing  asunder  the  ties  of  mother 
and  obUdren ;  as,  in  the  event  of  my  placing  Ferdinand 
in  the  Roman  college,  I  should  probably  give  Letitia  in 
charge  to  the  accomplished  ladies  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
on  Uie  Pinoian.  Do  you  think  well  of  this  arrange* 
ment  T 

"Indeed  I  do,"  replied  Father  Duago;  and  the  whole 
plan  was  therefore  determined  on  by  Lord  Elverton  to 
the  great  joy  of  his  lady. 

These  arrangements  had  taken  place  during  Mr.  Ever 
ard's  absence  in  the  Netherlands,  and  Father  Duago  was 
now  recounting  them  at  Bumleigh,  with  this  additional 
information,  that  he  had  that  day  received  the  expected 
command  to  leave  Elverton  Hall  within  the  month ;  but 
that,  instead  of  his  destination  being  Stonyhurst,  he  waa 
to  repair  to  Rome  to  conduct  the  studies  in  the  "  Colle* 
gio  Nobile,"  in  associatimi  with  the  other  pn^essed  Fa- 
thers of  the  Society  of  Jesus. 

••  You  knew  aU  this,  you  sly  Jesuit !"  cried  Mr.  Ever- 
ard ;  **  so,  not  content  with  depriving  me  of  yourself  yoa 
have  wUed  away  every  one  else  to  Rome." 

"  How  can  that  be  r  said  Father  Duago  quietly, 
**  when  the  arrangements  for  the  &mily  at  the  Hall  were 
eonduded  List  week  in  England,  and  my  personal  in- 
struotions  did  not  arrive  till  this  morning,  and  <mmo  di. 
leotfitunRomel" 

*"Fbm  you  knew  it  supematunlly  t"  persisted  Mr. 
ETerard,  "for  that  !  haveoAen  snspooted.  And  whata 
bredcmp  is  this !  Ihe  Abbey~4he  Hall— the  Vicarage-. 
all  loong  their  treasures  to  me  in  my  old  age  I" 

"Ccnne  then  yoivself  to  Roma !"  said  Father  Dttigo  I 


umtutummt^mttuitmmMma 


P" 


^■^^r^^Mi^j^ 


!   I 


i§  BOm   AHIt   Tin    ABBBT. 

and,  content  with  having  thrown  out  Uus  raggastion,  ha 
pasMd  through  the  open  door  into  the  garden,  and  drew 
forth  his  pocket  breviary }  leaving  Mr.  Everard  hi  • 
•tate  to  become  more  and  more  nervous,  UU  at  last  ha 
rang  the  bell  and  sent  for  Mrs.  Mooa. 

**  Moss,  I  am  not  well !" 

"  No,  Sir,  no  more  you  are." 

"  Well,  Moss,  what  is  to  be  done  7" 

"Why,  Sir,  there  is  the  camphor-water— «r  a  oup  «f 

9x>d  teal" 

"  Ha  I  a  cup  of  good  tea— mixed  green  and  black  1 
Yes.    Made  fresh  and  quickly— water  boiluig— erewn 

and  new  milk." 

In  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Everard  was  stirring  this  iuoont. 
^arable  tea,  and  reviving  bv  the  very  fiimes. 

"  Sit  down.  Moss :  I  have  something  to  consult  about. 
We  eigoyed  our  little  trip  to  the  Low  Countries,  did  we 

notr 
"Yes,  indeed,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Moss.    « It  was  pleasant 

to  go,  and  stUl  better  to  come  back.    There  is  nothing 

like  old  Eiiglaud!" 

**  But  whfit  ki  old  England— what  is  life,  without  those 
one  loves  1" 

"Very  true,  Sip— 'tis  the  heart's  oontent  makea  the 

.howm  fmilCk" 

"  But  my  heart  is  not  content,"  said  he :  "  erefy  one  I 

loTO  is  going." 
"  Bless  me  I  not  every  onel"  cried  Mrs.  Moi& 
"  Why  «j^  has  Idt  the  Abbey  ConveDtr 
«  Well,  Sir,  we  knew  that  long  ag^" 

,    «A»dUIy  hat  left  the  VicangeT 


sss 


■fe 


tion,bfi 
id  draw 
rd  iu  • 

,  iMtlM 


i  blackl 
^— «ream 

winooniF 

iihaboHt. 
«,didwe 

ipl«aMnt 
Dotking 


ludua  the 


aum  Aim 

*  Whj,  Sir,  yoa  todi  Iwr  offyounclf  I" 
**  And  all  the  fiunily  are  going  from  tits  Hall  T 
**  Well,  Sir,  we've  known  that  these  six  weeks." 
"And  Ferdinand  and  Letitia  are  to  be  taken  to  Room  I* 
**  Wdl,  Sir,  they  must  be  placed  somewhere." 
"  And  Father  Duago  ib  ordered  off  also !" 
"Tbere  are  plenty  more  priests  left  in  Eagland, Sir; 
■od  there's  plenty  more  tea,  if  yoa  will  but  take  another 

"  No,  Moss,  it  is  of  no  nse.  What,  mors  tstti  Oh, 
yas,  of  oourse,  more  tea  ;-^bHt  I  tell  yon  it  is  wssless  to 
fHresent  me  these  dry  motives  for  oomlbrk.  There  are 
Hnlcs  and  fibres  in  the  heart  and  mind  finer  than  the  moat 
delicate  nerves  of  the  body ;  and  there  are  synipathette 
tios  and  mental  relations  imperoeptibly  intwined  intc- 
one's  very  existence,  which  are  to  outlive  the  separatiot 
of  matter,  and  to  adhere  to  the  soul,  both  in  its  supericv 
and  sensitive  part,  in  aetata  of  purification  and  perfection.* 

Mrs.  Moss  did  not  remain  to  hear  all  this^  she  had 
started  off  at  the  **  dry  motive^for  comfort,"  to  tetoh  the 
other  cup  of  tea :  which  her  master  having  concluded,  he 
started  up,  saying,  "  Well,  Moss,  I  also  am  off  for  Rome !" 

**  Very  well.  Sir,  so  I  supposed.  And  when  do  you  go  t" 

**  Why  in  about  a  fortnight    And  will  you  go  too  1" 

"  Why,  Sir,  to  speak  the  truth,  you  are  cot  so  young 
■s  you  have  been." 

"  Very  true,  Mosir." 

**  And  nobody  can  deny  but  that  you  love  your  cup  c/ 

•." 

"Most  true.  Moss." 

**  And  then.  Sir,  who  is  to  infiMrm  you  early  in  the  mora 


M  Horn  AKD  ma  abut. 

hg  viMt  sort  of  weather  it  it,  w  that  yoo  may  put  om 
either  the  thick  or  thin  fluinels  T 

"Ah!  well,  I  iee,  Moee,  thitt  you  wUl  oome  with  me." 

•♦  Yee,  Sir :  but  I  mutt  first  tpeiJt  my  mind,  Mr.  Ever- 
ard.  If  you  are  to  be  at  the  expense,  Sir,  of  tailing  me 
to  Rome,  111  have  no  wages.  And  I  must  further  say 
that,  without  blame,  I  might  look  for  the  promotion  of 
bsing  considered  your  friend  and  companion,  and  not  a 
■ervant,  if  I  go  so  fitr  from  my  own  country.  I  have 
saved  enough,  and  I've  had  a  legacy  left  me— and  you 
have  not  a  truer  friend  in  the  world  than  mysel£  So 
here's  my  mind.  Sir." 

"And  a  very  good  honest  mind  it  is,"  nii  Mr.  Ever 
trd :  **  so  you  shall  go  on  your  own  terms,  Mrs.  Moss." 

**  But  you  need  not  be  changing.  Sir,  from  calling  mo 
|lahi  '  Moss.'    I  want  no  formality  but  friendship." 

**  God  bless  you !  then,  Moss,  here's  my  frioidalip  lit 
fvwr    Aad  dMs  WW  the  compact  concludad. 


m 


mm 


Am 


CHAPTER  VL 


A  yOgflMag*  to  BoiM,  la  Mtkflil  y  Ml*. 

Tk*  iMea*  wm  ftma  tynamj  at  hMM  i 
Or  inwBt  (!▼•■,  wllk  Mplatarj  taan, 

Or  wmptdtToIlM  Am,  at  Um  ApmOaft  taaik 

An  tnvdlen  from  Verey  had  now  pawed  throof^  tka 
valley  of  the  Rhone,  and  had  arrived  at  Martigni,a  place 
of  interest  from  its  being  the  last  town  on  that  route  be- 
fore the  ascent  of  the  Alps,  and -containing  the  monaa> 
tery  lb  which  reside  the  Abbot  and  invalid  and  oonvales* 
sent  m  mks  from  the  celebrated  one  at  the  top  of  the 
Great  St  Bernard,  the  highest  pass  of  the  Alps.  Here, 
to  the  humble  church  of  the  monastery,  on  the  morning 
after  their  arrival,  the  four  female  travellers  heard  Mass 
and  received  the  Holy  Communion  from  the  Reverend 
Abbot,  and  then  made  their  thanksgiving  during  Iht 
Hass  of  their  fellow-traveller,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Terrisoa 
They  were  then  hospitably  given  break&st;  the  holy  and 
gradous  Father  Abbot  oonverring  with  them  during  the 
repast  He  was  much  interested  to  find  religious  women 
travelling  to  Rome,  and  invited  the  senior  lady  to  a  prl. 
▼ate  ocmforence,  in  which  his  previous  interest  inavased 
to  a  desire  personally  to  benefit  them.  He  desired  her 
to  write  down  <m  tablets  which  he  presented  to  her  both 
her  religious  name  and  those  which  she  had  borne  in  the 
world,  not  <»ly  that  he  mig^t  recommend  her  and  her 
cause  to  God,  but  that  he  might  g^ve  her  letters  of  r» 


aom  A«o  nm  AHonr. 

commendation  to  other  religkNu  houMS  that  would  lU 
on  her  route.  Great  was  the  consolation  given  by  the 
holy  Abbot  to  the  Nun  whom  he  thus  addressed  in  pri. 
vate  conference,  and  ever-living  she  knew  would  be  the 
grateful  remembrance  of  his  kindness,  especially  as  the 
interview  terminated  in  what  she  felt  to  be  a  prophetic 
announcement  to  her  of  the  eventual  suooeee  of  her  pil- 
grimage  to  Rome. 

**  When  all  has  succeeded,**  added  he,  as  he  gave  his 
partil^t  benediction  to  them  all,  "  write  to  me,  that  I  mMf 
participate  in  your  holy  joy." 

Our  travellers  then  bade  farewell  to  Martigni,  and  b». 
gan  the  ascent  of  the  Alps.    Their  first  halt  was  at  Sion, 
where  they  delivered,  in  the  sacristy  of  the  Jesuit's  beau 
tifiil  churdi,  the  first  letter  from  the  Abbot  at  Martigni. 
This  letter  had  apparently  been  written  to  request  for  th» 
religious  ladies  some  lines  to  Uie  Rev.  Father-General  oT 
the  Society  in  Rome ;  for  a  letter  to  that  effect  was  writtec 
and  delivered  to  them ;  and  the  travellers,  after  entreating 
•fresh  for  prayers  and  blessings,  continued  the  ascent  of 
the  mountain  pass,  whidt  they  had  been  assured  contained 
nothing  in  its  admirably  cut  road  that  could  alarm  the 
most  timorous.    This  account,  however,  supposed  the 
road  to  be  in  good  repair,  whereas  It  bad  been  neglected 
Ibr  years ;  and  the  reparation  which  was  in  the  act  of 
taking  place,  with  the  old  rubbish  and  tools  of  the  work- 
men invariably  placed  for  their  own  convenience  <m  the 
safe  side  next  the  rocks,  forced  the  Vetturino  to  take  the 
carriage  so  near  the  edge,  that  at  three  difierent  times, 
to  those  seated  next  the  precipice,  not  an  inch  oouM  ba 
diacened  between  them  and  eternity. 


?lfc>'n 


)u1d  lU 
by  the 
t  in  pri. 
b«the 
^  Ml  the 
rophetio 
her  pU* 

gave  hit 
ktlmaj 

,andb»- 
I  At  Sion, 
it's  beau 
M»rtigni. 
flt  forth* 
(enerftl  ot 
lewrittec 
ntreating 
Moentof 
ceatained 
Uurm  the 
toeed  the 
leglected 
he  Mtof 
the  work, 
loeoo  the 
tiJMthe 
got  timet, 
ooiddbe 


"(Mil  lUvwand  Mother,"  whii|>ered  the  jtnmger  R» 
ligiout. 

**  We  thtll  not  die,**  ttid  the  eldei,  •*  nntU  we  heve  Ail- 
filled  our  mitrion  in  Rome." 

"  Ah,  thityou  toid  in  that  dreadful  storm  fivm  London 
to  Ottend,**  returned  the  younger  Nun,  "  and  yon  were 
right :  but  may  Almighty  God  In  bis  mercy  furgire  me 
all  ray  eins !  and  our  Bleteed  Lady,  and  Guardian  Angela 
and  Patron  cii^te  preserve  us  on  this  narrow  shelf  ovir 
that  dreadftil  pit  of  destruction !" 

**  May  I  open  my  eyet  now,  Mr.  Terrison  T  said  Lllia. 

"No,  no— HM>t  yet.  May  the  Lord  b«  meretful  to  oa 
•11 P  cried  he.  •'Ah!  Now  tUi  la  an  awflil  temptfa^ 
of  the  Almighty!  Vetturino,  Vetturino!  let  at  ool, 
man!    Let  ut  walk,  for  Ood't  take P 

But  the  domr,  at  they  had  proved  beftre,  reqnired  • 
partioular  knaflk,  which  aeeret  the  Vetturino  kept  to  Mm- 
a^}  and  he  wat  at  that  time  walkmg  on  the  tafe  side  ol 
the  horses,  a  little  way  behind  them. 

"Miserere  me  Deus  secundum  miserioordinn  tmim,* 
began  Mr.  Terrison :  to  which  penitential  paatm  the  Re. 
ligious  responded ;  while  Lilia  kept  exclaiming,  but  in  a 
low  tone,  "  Great  and  Holy  God,  to  whom  I  belong  by 
my  baptism,  and  who  saved  me  on  the  En|^  moontah^ 
wre  me  now,  if  jt  be  Thy  holy  will.  I  believe  diat  in 
Iliy  Unity  is  a  divine  adorable  Trinity.  I  believe  what- 
WW  Thou  oommandest  by  thy  Church.  I  hope  in  The* 
abme.  Oh,  if  1  fiOl  over  this  precipice,  receive  my  soul. 
I  wish  to  love  you  above  all  that  you  have  created,  how* 
ever  beautilUI  or  good.  Are  we  goh^  over  now,  Reverend 
Mother?    Oh,  Lord  Jttut^  Divhw  Bedtamtr,  who  hat 


,t..,.wj-,-.m-,  V.JU.  --■•-'■iiirtii'ntfruiT 


BOm  AMD  IBM  ABBXT. 

Mved  me  from  eternal  death,  receive  my  souli    Oh! 
now  we  ara  over — Oh,  Jesus,  Jesus  !" 

But  the  crash  which  sounded  on  LiHa's  acutely  suffer, 
ing  nerves  was  the  opening  the  stiff  door  of  the  carriage ; 
for  the  Vetturino,  or,  as  he  invariably  called  himself 
the  '  Vctturale,"  at  length  came  to  know  if  they  wer« 
.aif^rmed. 

"To  be  sure  we  are !"  cried  Mr.  Terrison,  putting  out 
both  his  teet,  and  struggling  down  without  the  steps. 
"Come  out.  Miss  Lilitk.  and  you  too,  Lucy,  and  let  the 
Nuns  sit  on  this  side  of  the  carriage.  And  piay,  Vettu^ 
rino,  what  is  the  use  of  all  this  space  of  ground  next  to 
the  rocks,  if  you  keep  the  carriage  dose  to  the  edge  of 
the  precipice  1" 

The  Vetturale  replied  that  it  was  useless  to  be  moving 
in  and  out ;  that  they  could  not  always  keep  by  the  rocks, 
on  account  Of  the  tools  and  rubbish ;  therefore  it  was 
better  to  keep  on  in  a  straif^t  line.  "You  will  always 
find,"  added  he, ''  that  the  ne<irer  the  edge,  the  smootheir 
the  road,  and  the  horses  know  that;  but  they  are  so 
accustomed  to  this  pass,  that  I  trust  entirely  to  them,  and 
BO  I  would  if  it  were  midnight."  Antonio  was,  however 
very  good-natured,  and  during  the  next  mile  walked 
between  the  frightful  abyss  and  the  horses'  heads ;  while 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison  and  his  two  companions  fol- 
lowed the  carriage  at  some  distance ;  and  feeling  secure 
of  their  footing  they  were  eiubltd  to  admire  both  the 
stupendous  work  of  creation  and  the  faigenious  industry 
of  man. 

"But  we  live  in  times,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "wWoh 
make  it  a  difficult  mattet  to  tuiprise  any  (mebyenf^eep 


MU  AHD  TBI  ABnn'. 


67 


luli    Oh! 

«ly  suffer* 

carriage; 

d  hinoitelfl 

they  wer« 

putting  out 
the  steps, 
and  let  the 
»i*y,  Vettu- 
iind  next  to 
the  edge  of 

» be  moving 
ly  the  rocks, 
sfore  it  was 
will  always 
smoother 
they  are  so 
them,  and 
as,  however 
nile  walked 
leads;  while 
ipanions  fol» 
teling  secure 
ire  both  the 
ous  industry 

son,  "wMoh 
>7  engineer 


fc»  AnL  Twenty  years  ago  the  tunnels,  or,  as  they  oidl 
them,  'galleries,'  which  we  shaU  pass  to-morrow,  wer« 
eonsidored  the  wonders  of  this  pass;  and  now  we  shdl 
probably  look  at  them  with  the  eyes  of  critics  accustomed 
to  artificial  roads  and  tunnels  of  surpassing  workman, 
ship." 

Heir  mid^y  halt  was  Briga,  and  it  was  early  in  the 
evening  when  they  reached  Berisa!,  which  ww  to  be  their 
shelter  for  the  night.    Tftey  visited  therefore  the  pretty 
'ittle  chapel,  and  joined  mentally  in  the  evening  Angalus 
and  Litany  of  Loretto,  said  in  German  by  a  devout  pei^ 
Mnt  congregation.    ITie  neat  and  picturesque  inn  wa^ 
Mke  the  pas.  of  tiie  Simplon,  undeigoing  repairs,  and  the 
hot  months  of  July  and  August  had  been  chosen,  being 
those  m  which  travellers  were  not  expected.    Here  was 
not  therefore  sufficient  accommodation  for  th,  English 
party  of  five,  and  the  two  Religious  divided  tiie  night  in 
alternate  watch  and  repose.    The  elder  Nun  was  tiie  first 
to  bear  tiie  &tigue  of  sitting  on  an  armless  chair,  while 
oUiers  slept:  but  she  drew  a  smaU  teble  near  her  on 
which  she  leaned.    She  had  whispered  to  tite  attendant 
peasant  as  she  left  tiie  room,  "What  do  you  call  tiiia 
nearest  and  highest  glacier  just  before  die  window  f '  and 
the  reply  had  been,  "TTie  top  of  tiie  Simplon." 

The  Nun  extinguished  her  lamp,  and  gazed  on  the 
ijita  peak  of  ice,  now  hitensely  brill  lant  in  tiie  moonlight. 
The  wearied  eyes  tiien  dosed,  and  for  awhile  she  slept 
and  so  profoundly,  that  when  at  lengtii  her  uneasy  pos- 
ture  roused  her,  she  could  not  comprehend  tiie  fiust  tiiat 
■he  beheld— «ot  tiie  narrow  oonfiaes  and  pious  ornaments 
rf  the  hidden  cell,  but  the  high  Alps,  on  her  long  and 


wv 


m 


68 


KOMC   AND   THV    ABBKT. 


anxious  pQgrimage  to  Rome.    Yes  I  her  dn«in  bid  bMtt 
of  cloistral  duties  and  united  prayer;  but  ibe  waking 
thought  must  be  of  lofty,  lonely  piRrpo«>-divofoe,  for 
•while,  from  all  that  lovely  is  of  pious  siaterijot^  and  fikir 
repute;  and  her  mind  found  sympathy  in  the  snUiiiM 
Rcene  before  her.    She  arose  »nd  softly  opened  the  ease, 
irent  to  inhale  the  pure  midnight  air,  on  that  aOUi  of 
Augu8^  raid  the  eternal  snows.    More  than  ever  was  she 
now  the  chUd  of  Providence— more  than  ever  did  mystery 
surround  her :  and  she  seemed  caught  up  and  fijwd  in  an 
atmosphere  so  pure,  so  hij^  so  rare,  so  desdale  that, 
like  the  cold  glacier  before  her,  she  might  nevar  again 
descend  to  the  smUing  sympathies,  the  j©ys,  the  mirth, 
the  kindly  look,  the  loving  voice,  the  flowing  tears  of  th« 
volley.    Could  she  accept  that  destiny  1    Yes,  if  deeUa- 
uig  yea*'8  or  foiling  health  could  assureler  of  a  near  pa*, 
■ago  to  the  city  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.    But  could  she  accept  that  destiny  now,  m  tha 
fiill  power  of  her  health  and  fcculties— when  the  mind 
was  in  still  more  vigorous  action,  the  heart  m  more 
earnest  feeling  than  in  the  earlier  years  of  her  woman, 
hood  1    Yes,  if  spiritual  consoUtion  should  abound ;  if  to 
the  cold  moonlight  of  the  night's  sorrow  shmdd  snooeed 
the  bright  sunbeams  of  the  mom— if  she  eooUl  bask  and 
glisten  in  the  celestial  smile.    But  could  i^  accept  to  be 
for  life  a  human  glaoier^into  which  no  sun  can  penetfato, 
no  dews,  no  showers  can  melt— could  she  aooept  sncll 
dereliction  1    The  Religious  shuddered  and  dosed  het 
eves.     But  was  there  a  state  beyond  evaa  this  hi  sirring 
.^d,  if  90,  could  she  aooept  that  state— oould  she  iceept 
tiM  divine  annooncement  that  all  j^vioua  fiivottra  htA 


BOm  AKB  TBI  ABM*. 


been  deiuafcms— thst  she  had  deceived  heveelf  aad  othen 
•—thai  her  state  of  doreliction  was  not  to  pvxify  but  to 
punish-- that  she  had  been  the  Tietim  of  satanio  aii— 
bttc  that  having  been  so,  not  in  wilfulness  but  in  weahnesi^ 
her  soul  was  saved ;  and  satisfied  with  this  great  boon  sha 
was  henceforth  to  be  an  icy,  solitary  beacon,  pointed  out 
as  the  great  witraing  to  all  fervent,  g^ierous  hearts,  of 
hidden  dangers  in  the  mystio  life  t  Could  she  accept 
that  destiny  1  Hie  shuddering  was  succeeded  by  a  chill 
throughout  her  whole  fWune,  except  the  eyes,  which  were 
tortured  by  the  glare  of  diat  immovable  point  of  ice 
before  her ;  but  she  raised  them  above,  to  the  dear  blue 
vault  of  Heaven,  and  excUunrad^  **Yeei  ^for  Thy 
g^reater  glory,  my  Spouse,  anu  my  Ood  I" 

'iVo  hours  on  Uie  following  morning,  winding  higher 
and  higher,  brought  the  travellers  to  tiie  Hospice  of  the 
Simplon,  where  they  presoited  the  letter  ftom  the  Abbot 
at  Itartigni ;  and  where,  previous  to  the  ho^itable  bvealu 
&Bt,  they  had  the  renewed  consolation  of  Holy  Mass  and 
Communion  in  the  noble  chapel  of  the  Hospice. 

The  Reverend  Prior,  if  he  did  not  possess  all  the  calm 
dignity  of  his  Abbot  at  Martigni,  had  his  own  admirabla 
charaoteristie  of  openJiearted  benevolence.  He  abow<ed 
his  guests  over  all  his  premises,  and  otmdesoended  to  put 
OB  for  their  inspection  his  foil  Augustinian  choir  costuoMw 
In  die  kitchen  was  one  of  the  Arifiuaed  dogs  of  St  Bw* 
hard's  Monastery,  aw  goo  J  •  specimen,  in  his  way,  of  the 
''passiire  sublime,**  as  wu  ^scenery  around ;  wd  soon 
W  formed  part  of  •  picture,  in  which  he  q>peared  quite 
nnseiouB  that  he  was  caressed  and  admired.  The  othaiv 
Hid  more  aodte  form  in  the  pieture,  wna  LUK  wiM»  «Mr 


■■ 


mami 


'I 
i 


>  I 


111 


■m 


•  l^uivt  of  delight,  had  thrown  herself  on  her  knees,  had  > 
tOMed  away  her  bonnet,  and  was  alternately  leaning  her 
bead  on  his  back,  or  winding  her  arms  round  his  neck. 

**  Oh,"  cried  she,  "  if  Fred  and  Harry  could  but  see  this 
real  dog  I  How  often  have  we  played  at  being  lokt  in  tho 
snow,  and  found  by  this  noble  creature.  Under  dry 
leaves,  or  hay,  lay  I ;  Fred,  being  the  strongest,  was  tlw 
dog,  with  a  bottle  of  pretended  wine  round  his  throat ; 
and  Harry  was  the  monk,  with  his  long  staff  and  basket 
of  provisions.  Almost  all  the  scrapes  and  disgraces  I 
fell  into  with  Miss  Rigby  were  owing  to  Fred,  the  dog, 
tearing  my  frocks.  Oh,  if  thoy  cauld  but  see  the  real 
dog  in  his  own  mountains ! — just  where  he  ought  to  be, 
the  noble  fellow !  1  must  send  them  a  lock  of  his  hair, 
if  the  Prior  will  let  me  cut  one  o£  Mr.  Torriaon,  will 
you  translate  for  mel*' 

"  Well,  indeed,"  cried  Mr.  Tcrrison,  "  there  is  but  one 
Ktep  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous.  Tt>e  look  of  a 
dug's  hair!  A  proper  Protestant  relic!"  and  he  fol- 
lowed the  Reverend  Prior  and  the  Religious  through  the 
ofiioes  and  outer  door  to  Uid  grassy  enclosure  round  the 
Hospice,  more  or  less  covered  with  snow,  in  which,  ap- 
pearing to  be  now  but  a  rigid  and  peaked  hillock  of  ioe^ 
was  the  extreme  point  of  the  Simplon. 

After  taking  a  grateful  farewell  of  the  Reverend  Fa> 
ther  Prior,  and  depositing  their  mite  in  the  poor's  boi, 
oar  travellers  b^an  their  rapid  descent  of  the  mountaio, 
and  by  the  evening  had  arrived  at  Duomo  d'Osaolo. 
They  were  now  fitirly  in  Italy,  and  Uiis  suflSoed  to  oocupy 
Lilians  thoughts.    Here  they  received  the  hospitality  of 

•  sight's  lodging  and  breakiiwt  from  a  religiuas  ooooouf 


ingher 
neck. 
I  Bee  this 

der  dry 
was  die 

throat; 
d  basket 
igraces  I 

the  dog, 

the  real 
[bttobe, 

hishur, 
ison,  will 

B  but  one 
look  of  a 
d  he  fot 
lUghthe 
round  the 
Mch,ap* 
tckof  ioe, 

erendla* 
oor's  boi, 
mouDtaiOi 
d'Osaola 
to  occupy 
tpitality  of 

OOOOOUf 


Bom  ira 


isnr. 


thy  devoted  to  good  works,  and  fuU  of  the  sreetest  and 
most  cordial  charity. 

The  following  morning,  <m  leaving  tN«  churdi,  they 
travelled  throu^  scenes  contrasted  to  their  ymn  over  the 
Alps,  as  is  the  beautiful  and  verdant  to  the  awfU  and 
sublime,  and  by  their  resting-hour  of  noon  were  edging 
the  lovely  banks  of  the  Lago  Maggiore,  where  they  stop- 
ped with  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  the  Abbot  of 
Martigni,  at  the  hospitable  villa  of  the  Baroness  Boloa 
goro. 

The  gracious  old  lady  received  them  in  her  bed,  where, 
ftom  extreme  debility,  she  spent  the  greater  part  of  her 
time.  She  was  as  much  interested  in  her  guests  as  the 
kind  Abbot  could  have  desired;  and  after  conversing 
with  them  as  \aag  as  her  weakness  would  permit,  she 
desired  her  Reverend  Chaplain  to  show  them  the  chapel 
and  poor-school,  and  all  that  might  entertain  tliem  till  the 
eaJrly  dinner  was  served.  This  reverend  gentleman  was 
one  oi  the  newly  formed  religious  congregation  founded 
by  Signor  Rosmini,  many  of  whom  are  xealously  eni> 
ployed  in  England  as  missionary  priests,  and  the  female 
branch  is  also  established  in  England  under  the  title  of 
**  Suters  of  Providence."  Our  travellers  visited  the  coo. 
T«Dt  and  school  of  these  "  Pious  Teachers,"  as  all  Reli> 
gious  devoted  to  popular  education  are  termed  in  Italy ; 
•nd  then,  after  Uie  repast  in  the  villa,  sat  by  the  justly 
noted  lake,  grateftil  for  all  the  mercies  that  accompanied 
their  journey,  and  also  rendering  thanks  for  those  still  ia 
■tore — as  the  considerate  old  lady  and  her  Reverend 
Chaplain  were  preparing  letters  for  them  to  deliver  to  the 
Mother.6uperior  of  the  Visitation  Nuns  at  Arwus  and  to 


7t 


utaa  Am  rm  abbct. 


F'l 


Wmsl, 


the  Grey  Sisten  of  the  Hoepital  at  Novura,  which  letten 
produced  all  the  kindness  and  cordial  hospitality  so  edi- 
fying  to  the  recipients,  so  full  of  reward  to  the  dispensers, 
H  being  declared  by  their  Divine  Spouse  to  be  ''more 
Messed  to  give  than  to  receive."  To  the  highly-gifted 
Mid  sympathising  Superitwess  ot  the  Salesians  at  Anma 
our  elder  Religious  confided  in  part  the  object  of  her  pil> 
grimage  to  Rome,  and  received  in  return  for  tlus  oonfi- 
dence  the  most  heartfelt  wishes  for  her  success,  with  the 
promise  of  a  continued  remembrance  in  her  prayers. 
Like  the  Reverend  Abbot  at  Martigni,  this  sweet  Reli- 
giotts  entreated  that,  when  suooessful,  the  English  jril- 
grim  would  write  to  her,  that  she  also  trng^t  rejoice  and 
retitm  thanks. 

But  it  was  with  the  Grey  Sisters  at  Novara  that  Uiim 
was  in  full  enjoyment.  She  could  not  yet  understand 
(heir  language,  nor  they  hers,  but  she  loved  them  directly, 
and  they  loved  h«r.  Every  part  of  that  admirable  estab- 
Ushment  interested  her  feelings ;  she  almost  determined 
to  be  a  Grey  Sister,  and  nurse  the  sick  and  dying;  and 
•t  the  parting,  kissed  and  wept  as  if  i^e  had  spent  her 
life  am<Hig8t  them.  Nor  was  Lilia  tiie  wily  one  to  love 
and  admire  the  Hospitiaiers  of  Novara ;  they  will  ever 
be  gvateftOly  remembered  by  all  the  pilgrim  pai^  lo 


afe 


«■■ 


gmgn 


aocdU 

^Bten, 

**mor« 

tArona 
her  pil> 
da  ooufi* 
vithtlM 
prayen. 
set  Reli- 
|lidi  pU- 
joioeand 

AiatUlia 
identMid 
direcdy, 
I)lee8tab- 
itemtiaad 


Ingi 


and 


spent  her 
tolova 
wUlevar 


aJNla   AND   lU   ABBir 


Mr 


now 


CHAPTER  VIL 

Bator  th*  fold,  thov  tluftai  uaStt 

Tlijr  mother  ii  blamlins  Imitl  . 
B«B  to  th*  s^ltar  of  tby  4*^ 

Tho  tlinnler  it  i>  the  oload 

'  ThafaithAU  AaKkisw*nlBg-buk 
And  aaxloa*  eo«n»  hM  mad* ; 
Haito  I  for  Ibf  woU  Ua«  is  tha  datk 

Of  joadar  aMaitakada. 

*         « 
* 

mti  was  btil^Q^e^ii^ll^  m^'^&  jl^peot,  muI 
Uiey  would  reach  Genoa — the  fkr-fiuned  Grenoa ;  they* 
would  see  the  Miediterranean.  Hie  country  had  become 
l)fit  and  uninteresting  ever  since  Novara — ^the  Rev.  tSi, 
Terrison  longed  for  a  rtulroa^  and  Mlta  found  nothing  fli 
eicterior  objects  to  amuse  her,  except  tlie  giycefiil  lioi^' 
dresses  or  ^e  remate  peasantis. 

"I  find  it  a  great  relief'  to  tiaVe  nouidre  beauMd 
scenes  to  contemplate,"  said  Sister'  Bfary  Agnes;  the 
joui^gi^  I^im':  "  human  nature  is'  so  pione  t6  look  oulf^ 
iiutead  of  widiin^  aiid  I  am  so'  wektL** 

<*  Bu^  ^Mter  Agnes,"  said  Liliq^  *"  do^  M  dirraBlini^ 
•nd  b^utaful  raue  tiie  soul  tp  God  V* 

«  When  tiiat'  is  the  cue,**  repilied  di«telr  AfP^di;  ibojt 

es^y  ad4re8ui^,  and  believing  herself  heard  by  lalla 

tifmof^  "it  must  be  profitable;  and  Almighty  God  oon- 

dnots  sottis  by  such  different  means,  that  we  oaii  nevw 

i^iire  to  prtmounce  &r  ^others.** 

**  But  even  for  your8#,  l^r  Ajj^i&^-'kiify  y^  Ibv* 
4 


iJF 


i  -il 


■I- 


f    !>■ 


I  Mk 


'it 


•i 


H 


HOUX  AHD  THX  ABSIT. 


God  more  and  more  »t  every  fredi  ^laj  of  Us  Wfl» 
derful  creation r  -     ..    •. 

"I  loved  Him  as  much  in  our  little  cdl,''  s«d  tha 

ynimg  Nun. 

"  And  what  oonld  you  see  from  your  window  r 
» I  could  see  nothing.    It  was  placed  so  high  that  oar 
Oratory  was  beneath  it,  with  the  crucifix,  and  «»»»"«■ 
memhrances  of  all  that  He  had  done  for  my  soul.    This 
was  sufficient." 

"  Pray,  Miss  LUia,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  who  wm  test- 
ing  his  eye^  but  had  not  been  asleep,  "  did  it  ever  hap- 
pen to  you  to  be  taken  to  some  show— call  it  *  Coemo- 
rama,'  or  what  you  will— where  you  had  to  wait  in  some 
dull,  gloomy  room  tUl  it  was  your  turn  to  have  a  peep, 
and  then  you  could  have  staid  there  all  day :  it  was  no 
longer  dull  and  gloomy  1  So  it  is  with  these  good  Nuns : 
they  have  each  got  %j)eep  at  something  better  than  even 
the  wonders  of  «reation ;— so  Uie  mystery  becomes  ex- 
plained of  Why  they  love  their  cell,  m  which  they  get  thia 
private  peep  oftener  than  elsewhere. 

«•  Oh,"  cried  LUia,  "  I  ioiow  what  you^nean  t  It  is  the 
contemplation  of  God  himself  1-his  truth,  hU  wisdom, 
his  goodness,  his  love  1  These  are  superior  to  his  oreo- 
tlon— they  are  increate.  They  are  his  divine  essence, 
which  it  would  be  sufficient  for  his  own  happiness  always 
to  contempkte:  and  yet  He  is  so  fWl  of  love  that  He 
has  created  man,  and  is  his  Providence.  This  I  have  been 
long  taught  by  Mr.  Neston,  my  brcthers'  tutor." 

«  He  Uoght  you  very  weU.    But  did  he  teach  you  no 
vorer  »«d  Mr.  Terrison. 
« No:  but  my  own  fcther  taught  me  In  his  evenfaig 


ttfe 


bkloor 
kher  Te> 
.    This 

as  rMt> 

ferhsp' 

in  aomd 
ispeep, 
t  was  no 
A  Nuns : 

teven 

^gettUs 


BOm  AND  TBI  ABBSr. 


u 


•^Mtetions  and  Sunday  sermons,  that  I  can  do  no  good, 
and  can  expect  no  salvation,  but  through  our  Lord  Je»ua 
Christ." 

•♦  Very  admirable,  also,**  said  Mr.  Terrison.    "  But  did 
he  teach  rou  no  more  t" 

"  NeveJ"!*  said  Lilia :  "  therefore  I  blended  the  instruo> 
tions  of  the  two  in  my  own  way ;  and  until  last  year 
considered  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  be  an  inferior  Intel* 
%«n«o— neither  God  nor  man,  but  a  most  mysterioua 
being,  full  of  love  and  goodness,  and,  as  Mr.  Neston  terms 
Him,  •  the  holy  founder  of  the  CSiristian  system.'     Last 
year  the  Reverend  Qiaplain  of  Elverton  Hall  taught  me 
that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  that  very  God  whose 
truth,  wisdom,  goodness,  love,  and  other  attributes  had 
been  distinctly  taught  me;  and  that  the  mystery  of  his 
life  on  earth  did  not  consist  in  his  being  a  little  more 
than  man  and  alittle  less  than  God,  but  m  his  being  both 
in  their  utmost  perfection.    He  taught  me  also  who  is 
the  Holy  Ghost,  whom  I  had  look^^d  upon  as  an  inferior 
intelligimce,  and  the  beamr  from  God  of  holy  thoughts, 
like  the  angels.    Now  I  know  that  He  is  God ;  and  I 
have  learned  every  thing  respecting  the  angels,  and  their 
great  o(»cem  and  interest  for  me.    What  happiness  to 
be  at  length  amongst  them  I  and  how  glad  I  am  that  the 
fiillen  angels  chose  evil,  and  have  made  room  for  mo,  and 
Fred,  and  Harry,  and  Reverend  Mother,  and  all  those  I 
love,  to  be  bom,  and  go  to  Heaven." 

"You  must  not  be  glad  of  evil,"  said  Mr.  Terriscui, 
•'  nor  rejoice  in  the  sin  of  an  angel,  for  your  own  advan- 
tage ;  but  you  may  and  ought  to  rejoice  that  Almighty 


I 


i 


m 


fi  BOiu  AND  TBI   ABBKT. 

God  hM  overruled  that  evil,  and  brought  forth  greatM 
good  than  if  that  evil  had  not  been  oommitled." 

•*  Are  you  not  delighted  that  you  were  boin,  Mr.  Ter. 
rtson  r  said  Lilia. 

Mr.  Terrison,  who  aU  hia  life  had  had  to  struggle  with 
gnat  physical  depression,  and  dread  of  death,  replied 
with  a  sigh,  "  I  am  bound  to  thank  Obd  for  his  Aree  gift 
of  life,  and  bound  to  employ  it  in  his  servioe." 

"  You  sigh,  Beveroid  Sir— you  sigh !"  cried  Lilia. 
"  But,  oh,  what  joy  to  exist  Geom.  nothing!— to  know,  to 
love,  to  servo  QoA ;  and  to  have  our  places  all  prepared 
fbr  us  where  we  shall  contemplate  his  perfections  for 

everT  ,  -•.-.-  ,■■+'.'*; 

"  If  we  be  fiSthfiil  to  his  grace,**  said  Mr.  Terrison. 
••  But  I  ooncluAe  you  have  been  fiirther  taught  that 
Almighty  God,  wKen  he  created  man,  gave  him  also  his 
ft«e  dwice  of  good  and  evil,  and  that,  like  the  faUen 
angels,  he' chose  evilT  ^^       ^ 

"  Ves,"  laui  LUia.  But  it  is  uset<ws,  ICr.  Temson, 
for  the  Devil  to  pretend  to  make  miadiieC  You  8©e,tlMrt 
w'hen  he  diiose  evil  and  tempted  aw»y  the  otfier  tog^ 
God  crei^^  man;  and  when  he  temptoi  awa^  mm^ 
Go4  blnueHl^  in  human  ^e^  came  t»  fetldi  Jam  biakj^ 
and  make  liJm  haj^pier  than  ever  1  So  I  raUly  wonder 
the  Deva  attempU  Miy  niore  schemes'  ajjunrt  C^od:" 

"  Vdt,  M  long  as  the  world  ^^^l  1*4"  «»«  Ur.  TeA 
•on,  "  the  Devil  will  lay  Ks  tw^'  ti)  oitolt  souls;  aii^ 
God  pmnits'tliis.'*  ,  .        . ,         .. 

«  Wliy  ^ioes  God  permit  it  i"  inc^iiired  MiaL 

•♦Because,"  replied'  ifi-l  Twrison,  "uniai  tlw  end  d 


*»^E 


MM 


KOMB   AITD  TBI  ABBBT. 


n 


time  God  leaves  mm  his  ohoioe  of  good  or  eviJ.    He  hM 
repBlred,  and  more  than  rejMired^  the  misdiief  done  wheo 
Adam  sinned,  because  the  human  nature  of  man  in  tlie 
person  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Divine  liedeemer,  is  already, 
since  the  day  of  his  Ascension,  exalted  far  above  even 
Uie  good  angels,  and  this  must  mortify  the  Devil  ^o  the 
very  quick.    But  still,  man  must  be  punished  for  havmg 
•inned— punished  in  the  evil  inclinations  of  his  nature, 
•nd  punished  by  the  many  temptations  that  surround  him, 
even  hi  thhigs  harmless,  or  even  m'  themseives  good,  be 
^uae  he  is  prone  to  love  them  too  much,  and  to  forget 
God— to  love  the  gifts  more  than  Jhe  givei^to  love  the 
oreaturemore  thaii  the  (Creator.    Now.here  is  this  Fred, 
•nd  this  Harry,  whom  you  are  always  remembering  and' 
quoting— they  are  very  good  boys,  I  dare  say,  and  you  do 
right  to  love  them ;  but  I  fear  that  you  thi^  of  them 
oftener  than  you  do  of  God,  anci  if  you  thintc  pf  them 
oftener,  you  love  them  better;  and  if  yo»i  love  them 
better  ^ey  are  your  idols,  or  false  gods;  and  your  de. 
light  m  the  perfections  of  the  Deity,  and  in  the  contem- 
plation  of  his  attributes,  are  just  a  string  of  fine  sen- 
tences which  you  can  repeat  tirom  the  lectures  of  your 
tutor."  ■  '  .. 

-Oh!"  cried  Lilia,  the  blood  rushing  to  her  &ceu 
and  the  tears  to  her  eyes,  "  my  Fred  and  Harry  fidse 
gods!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  «  and  the  great  doir.  too. 
with  his  lock  of  hair  !"  *  "'  ^ 

"  Don't  mmd  his  Reverence,  Miss  LUia,"  whispered 
Lucy;  "he  is  tryfag  not  to  smUe  behind  his  Oflb* 
book." 


F 


IT 


■  1 


lit  I 


U 


mOUU  AlID   THE    ABDir. 


**  Reverend  Mother,"  cried  Mr.  TerriscMi,  "here  If 
tUt  Lucy  not  keeping  custody  of  eyes !  She  will  never 
do  for  »  Lay  Sister !  she  is  peeping  into  my  comer." 

**  Oh,  Lucy,"  said  Lilia,  "  1  know  that  he  is  only 
joking  about  the  dog !  But  he  is  in  earnest  about  Fred 
and  Harr/ — aiid  1  cannot  help  thinking  about  thent ;  and 
I  cannot  help  loving  them.  Oh,  Mr.  Terrison,  what  aia 
I  to  do?" 

"  Do  Uiis,"  replied  he : — **  every  time  you  mention 
them,  and  every  time  that  you  find  your  thoughts  much 
occupied  with  them,  make  an  act  of  the  love  of  God, 
saying,  *  My  God,  I  desire  to  love  thee  above  all  crea- 
tures !'  And  then  do  something  for  your  brothers'  souls, 
>>j  iMj  ing, '  My  God,  give  them  grace  to  become  great 
Saints.'  Why,  we  have  Saints  Fabian  and  Sebastian, 
Si^ts  John  and  Paul,  Sunts  Cosmas  and  Damian, 
Saints  Gervase  and  Protuse — and  why  not  Saints  Frta 
and  Barry  f" 

"  Yes,  I  wiU  do  exactly  as  you  tell  me,"  said  LQia, 
recovering  her  spirits  as  she  looked  on  the  benevolent 
oountcnanoe  of  Mr.  Terrison.  **  Indeed,  it  will  greatly 
vonnole  me  to  feel  that  I  can  be  really  useful  to  them, 
and  in  a  manner  that  brings  me  near  to  them  again.  As 
the  great  God  is  boundless,  and  fills  all  creation,  they 
are  in  Him,  and  I  am  in  him,  even  now.  Besides,  ws 
have  all  three  been  baptized,  and  our  souls  belong  to 
Him :  but  if  my  praying  for  them  causes  God  to  think 
of  them  and  of  me  at  the  same  moment,  then  we  are  re- 
fleeted  all  three  together  on  the  mirror  of  the  memory  oi 
tfie  Divmity,  and  we  meet  thus  in  God." 
**  Who  taught  you.  this  idea  1"  said  Mr.  Terrison. 


TTrrrr^^ 


rfl,  'V^  >•' 


T^m't-'m^^ 


«0I»  AKD  TBB  ABUT. 


H 


**  No  one,"  replied  LUia;  **  it  hH  juit  come  into  my 
blad.  Mi^  it  aUy  there  1  I  luppoae  it  majr,  for  God 
Is  the  creator  of  ideM.  Thej*  were  not  pre-existeot  to 
him — that  w«a  an  error  of  PlatoV 

**  This  is  a  very  odd  girl !"  whispered  Mr.  Terrison  to 
Sister  Agnes, — "  at  once  so  childish  and  so  profound." 
Then  addressing  Lilia:  "  God  is  the  creator  of  all  things 
visible  and  invisible,  therefore  he  ia  the  creator  of  ideas ; 
but  God  is  all  perfection,  and  truth  is  one  of  his  attri- 
butes, therefore  he  creates  only  those  ideas  that  are  true. 
When  you  conceived  that  idea,  on  which  I  do  not  pro> 
uounce,  of  those  distant  on  earth,  if  praying  for  each 
other,  being  reflected  together  on  the  mirror  of  the  me- 
mory of  God,  and  so  being  re-united,  was  it  not  in  ooiw 
sequence  of  some  previous  metaphysical  conversation 
bdd  with  some  one  1" 

<*  I  think  it  was,"  replied  Lilia ;  "  but  not  lately.  It  is 
nearly  a  year  ago  that  Father  Duago  taught  me  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity  in  the  Unity  of  God.  He  then  said 
that  God's  contemplation  of  lus  own  perfection  was  not  a 
barren  abstraction,  but  a  fruitfbl  production,  for  that  the 
perfect  image  of  Himself  was  the  instantaneous  conse- 
quence. I  then  thought  of  a  i|||rror,  which  perfectly 
reflects  the  original  object ;  but  I  knew  that  the  perfect 
Image  of  God's  perfection,  being  a  fruitful  production, 
was  a  real  Divine  Person,  and  therefore  a  mirror  is  but 
a  v>:!y  imperfect  comparison;  however,  it  has  often  oo- 
.  ourred  to  me  fur  want  of  a  better.  I  fbrther  learned  at 
that  time  that  the  mutual  love  of  these  two  Divine  Per- 
■ons  produced  instantaneously  a  third  Divine  Person; 
BO  that  Uio  Divinity  has  contained  from  all  eternity  thrM 


>l  i  ■ 


1} 


HOXS  AND  TBS   ABBKT. 

■  -J.  ,.    .    ....    ',  ,t     .      ■  '  ■ 

Pcvwms— «U  holy,  wise,  and  powe^ul,  one  as  the  othat 
—God  being  in  three  porta." 

•*  That  last  expression  is  your  own,  I  conclude  ?"  naid 
Mr.  Terrison. 

"y«s,"  replied  lalia.  "When  I  think  that  God  hw 
chosen  to  be  in  ^iree  parte,  I  find  it  easier  to  understand 
the  equality  of  his  Trinity." 

"  Perhaps  the  expresdon  '  God  w  In  three  parts '  may 
be  admissible,*'  satd  Mr.  Terrison ;  "  but  you  must  be 
careful  not  to  say  that, God  is  divided  into  three  pans, 
<br  the  Church  adores  the  holy  and  undivided  Trinity." 

"  To  return  to  my  praying  for  Fred  and  Harry,"  said 
Lilia :  "  I  believe  that  God  always  remembers  them,  for 
He  has  not  a  memory  that  can  fiul  lilie  a  mortal's.  Wbc 
iher  I  pray  for  them  or  not,  they  arc  in  the  memory  of 
God,  and  I  am  in  his  memory,  whether  I  behave  well  qr 
ill  J  but  when  that  thought  entered  my  mind  of  our  V«ing 
Closel;  reunited  in  the  memory  of  God,  it  gave  me  grea« 
jOy,  as  if  we  should  be  all  throe  more  beloved  by  Him  iia 
those  moments,  and  therefore  more  distinctly  repre- 
sented,  as  if  in  a  mirror  held  before  Him — for  he  would 
then  see  and  love  that  part  of  us  which  is  himself;  for 
you  know  that  his  divine  virtue  flowed  into  our  soids  at 
our  baptism,  thereforf  we  are  not  only  in  Him,  but  he  ia 
in  us." 

"  That  is  supposing  aim  ays,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "  that 
neither  of  you  have  forfeited  that  divine  virtue  by 
>:dmitting  sin  into  your  soul.  Remember  what  we  have 
been  speaking  of  respecting  the  choice  of  good  and  evil. 
If,  in  expelling  original  sin,  baptismal  grace  pr';vented 
the  power  of  actual  sin,  every  baptized  person  Ttrould  b« 


jfifgaiaMm&sgmmmmmmmm 


God  h«w 
inder8tan<l 

(arts'  may 
u  must  be 
iree  piiits, 
Trinity." 


any, 


'  said 


s  tbern,  for 
al's.  Who- 
memory  of 
ave  wel!  or 
if  ourl'«ing 
e  me  great 
by  Him  in 
ctly  repre- 
T  he  would 
imself;  for 
)ur  soiils  at 
m,  but. he  ia 

rison,  "  that 
virtue    by 

utt  we  have 
.  and  evil, 
prevented 

tn  "vould  b« 


|l|)ip  AXO  1^  >  W' 


i« 


MOure  of  eternal  blisa ;  whereas  it  is  only  when  a  penoa 
has  died  too  young  to  have  had  the  mental  power  of 
choosing  evil,  that  we  are  warranted  in  believing  that, 
>vithout  the  aid  of  wiy  other  sacran.tnt,  his  soul  has 
returned  immediately  to  his  Create  i,  ^^  to  his  orighial 
destination :  for,Gk>d  c  ;«ted  the  soul  of  man  for  his  love 
and  service ;  and  if  the  soul,  in  her  free  will,  makes  arty 
other  choice,  she  ci^parts  from  her  holy  destination,  and 
toe  Devil  looks  out  tor  her  to  become  his  for  over." 

"  Oh,  dreadful !  dreadful !"  cried  Lilia.  What  is  to 
be  done?" 

"  Why,  as  Almighty  Grod  accepts  the  soul  under  two 
conditions  only — ^innocence  or  penitence — ^if  she  have 
lost  the  .former,  she  must  embrace  (he  tMev ;  and  may 
,re8t  assured  that  if  she  do  so  truly,  humbly,  generously, 
she  will  find  that  her  pen'tential  state  tias  woven  round 
her  the  wedfling-garment,  which  will  admit  her, to  ^ 
nuptial  feast  o^  the  Eternal  King." 

**  But  it  is  better  to  remain  innocent,"  said  Lilia. 

"  ¥m  better,"  responded  Mr.  Terrison. 

"  nien  I  will  renuun  innocent !"  cried  Lilia,  quitb  iui> 
eonscinus  of  the  smile  which  curled  round  lilr.  Ijerrison's 
iDOUth,  wd  ""'  ]  -sflected  by  Sister  Agnes  and  Lucy. 
"  r  pronuoea  A.  nighty  God,  and  Father  Duago,  at  the 
Lake  of  Gras-r^ere,  that  I  would  never  <;hoose  evil !" 

N  'r[-  a  year  had,  however,  passed  since  then,  during 
wolcsh  she  had  approached  the  saoreji  tribunal  of  CoatHii- 
naa — twice  to  Father  Duago,  and  oftentimes  to  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Terrison,  with  whom  alcne  now  lay  the 
knowledge  of  how  fiur,  in  the  sight  of  God,  she  waA  atiil 
"the  Lily  of  the  Valley." 


«flw»M— aiiMiiiinw 


RUMR   AND   TCS 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


■ut  than  e'«r  gUdad  bj  Ui«  pan  lUr-llKhti 
Atong  the  ihont  of  lUljr  and  FnnM  i 
In  all  Ut«  iplandaur  of  thoM  rautheni  nighti, 
When  mamorjr  and  feu*  ere  huthed  |ierehBiiee  t 
Thon  hHt  enjoyed— Oh !  wonderAil  ■■  rare, 
Soma  pleennt  nHHoenta  In  a  world  of  care ! 

Artnt  one  more  day  of  trsTelling,  our  English  party 
entered  rgain  into  mountain  scenery ;  and  at  length  l>egao 
the  descent  into  Genoa,  and  lieheld  the  Mediterranean. 

«  Oh,  is  U  possible !"  exdumed  Lilia.  "  Do  I  actually 
behold  the  classical  Mediterranean,  that  contains  ScyU» 
and  CharibdiS;  and  so  many — ^many  remembrances !  Oh ! 
if— My  Qod,  I  desire  to  love  thee  above  all  creatures ! — 
but  if  Fred  end  Harry  were  but  here !  My  God,  give 
them  grace  to  become  great  Sainta !  And  the  opposite 
coast  is  Africa — ^wonderful !  Another  quarter  of  the 
globe,  where  in  ancient  times  stood  CWthage,  the  great 
xival  to  Rome,  and  still  oontuning  Alexandria  and 
Hyppo,  cities  of  the  early  Stunts — Cyprian,  and  Athana- 
tius,  and  Augustine.  Oh,  what  happiness !  And  then, 
for  beautiful  GenM  itself  there  are  historical  and  pioutf 
ixcordd,  for  there  was  the  great  Admiral  Doria,  and 
there  was  Saint  Cathdrine  of  Genoa,  with  many  more  in 
«Mh  class  of  greatness  Oh  I  Lucy,  are  you  not  glad 
to  see  fiunous  G^oa  f* 

liuoy  smiled  and  gave  a  little  private  nod,  but  sha 
%mM  not  ooinmit  herself  before  her  preaent  cnjnfuaj 


-isMMt^^mm 


BOm   AHO  TBI   ABBKT. 


8» 


{liah  party 
igthbegaD 
jiranean. 
>  I  actually 
una  Scyllft 
taces!  Ohl 
futures ! — 
God,  pve 
le  opposite 
ter  of  the 
,  the  great 
ndria  and 
adAthana- 
And  then, 
and  pioutf 
)oria,  and 
more  in 
not  glad 

i,  but  aha 
oompany 


by  owning  that  she  did  admire  very  much,  not  only  the 
fine  winding  road,  and  the  majestic  city  and  harbour 
beneath,  but  also  the  graceful  attire  of  the  Genoese 
women. 

"  We  have  bid  ferewell,"  said  the  Reverend  Mr.  Tor- 
rison,  **  to  Italian  hospitality ;  it  is  a  virtue  that  belonga 
not  to  cities.  At  any  rate,  if  there  be  such  good  soula 
in  Genoa  as  to  shelter  religious  pilgrims,  I  luiow  them 
not;  so  I  must  be  content  to  lodge  you  all  with  my 
friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tea,  and  if  you  can  get  the  top 
6oor  you  will  be  quiet  enough,  lliey  are  modest  and 
pious  people." 

This  plan  was  put  into  exeuution ;  and  in  an  hour 
LUia  found  herself  perched  at  a  giddy  height  overlooking 
the  harbour,  with  the  chained  galley-slaves  immediately 
beneath  her. 

Here  they  were  detained  nearly  a  week,  as  the  vessels 
did  not  leave  the  harbour  till  the  first  of  September. 
Tlie  respectful  master  of  the  house  did  not  appea.* ;  but 
his  gentle  young  wife,  who  spoke  English,  brought  her 
infimt  and  sat  with  them  as  often  as  she  could  spare  time, 
seeming  to  delight  in  the  repose  she  found  in  that  suite  of 
rooms,  to  the  more  stirring  parts  of  the  house. 

Hie  magnificent  Annunciata  was  their  nearest,  and 
constantly  frequented  church.  There  they  first  heard  the 
popular  "Tantem  ergo"  of  Italy,  which  at  that  time 
seemed  a  holy  oonfiision,  in  whidi  no  tune  was  ever  to 
be  distinguished,  but  which  at  lergth  in  the  Roman 
churches,  by  dint  of  repetition,  vindicated  its  claim  to  ^ 
■n  ancient  air,  and  grew  in  their  affection.  Mr.  Tenison 
took  Lilia  and  Lucy  to  are  the  other  churches  and  iaatL 


^■■■■■■MHiiiiiliiiii 


iiMiiitritfiiiltitiiiifiiBil 


84  nOMI    AKD  THB   ADBBT. 

m 

tutions  of  the  city,  especiallj  pointing  out  to  them  the 
■cene  of  the  active  religious  labours  of  Saint  Catherine 
of  Genoa. 

On  the  evening  of  the  Ist  of  September  our  travellers 
entered  the  Ane  vessel  called  the  "  Ercolano,"  and  grato- 
fblly  thanking  the  zealous  pair,  who  had  saved  them  every 
petty  expense  and  annoyance  from  porters  and  boatmen, 
they  bade  farewell  to  Genoa  by  the  same  bright  moon  that 
had  shone  on  the  top  glacier  of  the  Simplon,  but  which 
now,  sinking  in  the  far  west,  only  lasted  to  give  its  part- 
ing beams  to  the  beautiful  city,  seen  to  its  greatest  efiect 
from  the  water.  To  the  moon  succeeded  a  starlight 
which  left  them  nothing  to  regret — such  a  starlight  as  the 
younger  ones  of  the  party  had  never  witnessed.  Lilia 
drew  near  to  the  two  Nuns,  and  found  them  repeating  in 
a  low  voice, — 

"  Htil,  QnMn  of  Haarsn  !  the  oecan't  Star, 
Ottlde  of  the  wanderer  here  below ; 
Thrown  on  IlfB'i  •urxe,  we  claim  th]r  eaia ; 
Save  ai  from  peril  and  ttnm  woe. 
MoUier  of  Chriit !  Star  ol'  U)e  Sea, 
.   *  Pray  tar  the  wanderei^— ptajr  tot  ma."* 

Lilia  now  sat  in  silence — a  silence  morefuU  of  «ijoy« 
Mient  than  the  most  eloquent  expressions  could  have 
bestowed.  She  held  in  her  hand  the  rosary  cross  sus- 
pended fh>m  the  girdle  of  the  Religious  by  whom  she  sat 
— diat  being  whom  she  loved  as  much,  though  with  more 
•we  and  mystery  than  she  loved  her  brothers,  and  who 
at  times  seemed  to  possess  the  power  of  expelling  from 
her  memory  the  image  of  every  creature  but  hersd£ 
IUb  had  arisen  from  the  early  halo  cast  around  the  d4n 


•  Tmiwlatloa  b/  the  Bar.  Dr.  Lingnrd  of  th«  "  At*  Maria  Walla ' 


BOin   AND  TBI   ABBXT 


l« 


relative,  by  the  approval,  the  admiration,  the  imitation 
of  that  giflecl  and  prosperous  being,  by  all  those  who 
surrounded  and  could  itiluence  the  tender  age  of  Lilia. 
Then  had  followed  a  particular  notice  of  henel{|  which 
had  filled  the  heart  of  the  neglected  child  with  a  devotion 
of  gratitude  and  love  so  impetuous,  that,  when  summoned 
from  time  to  time  to  be  the  companion  of  the  Recluso 
Lady  of  the  Hall,  Lilia  would  willingly  leave  for  a  week 
or  more  the  studies  and  games  of  the  Vicarage,  to  move 
silently  through  stately  deserted  rooms,  conservatories, 
flower-gardens,  where  not  a  sound  was  heard ;  and  to  gaze 
over  a  vast  undulating  park,  where  the  deer  seemed  to 
gain  courage  from  the  silence 'around,  and  would  often 
leave  the  sweeping  branches  ot  the  beech-tree?,  and  the 
tangled  retreats  of  the  copse-wood,  to  browse  near  the 
lawn,  from  which  the  park  was  divided  only  by  a  sunken 
fence.  Had  Lilia  then  been  questioned  w;hether  she 
would  not  rather  have  had  her  brothers  witb  her,  she 
TTOuld  undoubtedly  have  answered  "  Yes :"  but  as  the 
possibility  had  never  occurred  to  her,  she  was  as  perfectly 
happy  in  her  life  at  the  Hall  as  in  that  of  the  Vicarage, 
and  so  easily  passed  from  one  contrasted  life  to  the  other 
that  her  identity  could  hardly  have  been  recognise^. 
At  the  Vicarage,  from  its  confined  space,  all  was  in  social 
contact ;  the  Greek  and  Latin  murmuring  of  the  boys 
mingling  with  the  sounds  in  an  opposite  direction  of  Ute 
music  or  dancing  lessons  of  the  girls,  and  nqt  unfrequently 
of  the  nursery  plaints  or  ditty ;  while  friendly  visitors, 
parish  business,  and  indigent  suppliants,  kept  up  the  stir 
and  hum  of  a  beehive.  \t  the  Hall  it  would  have  been 
more  diflicult  to  d*soover  how  the  numfcruus  domesti<*i 


aiiiMi 


iiri 


jfifFMi^MliM 


fV 


ll 


<  i 


M 


SOMB  AlfD  THX  ABBKT. 


iuid  retainers,  and  the  wbole  routine  of  life  were  conducted. 
Lil>eral  charities  were  dispensed ;  horses  and  carriages 
came  to  the  entrance  of  the  Hall  or  flower-garden,  and 
were  employed;  repasts  were  served  in  the  allotted 
apartments,  and  were  eaten :  all  was  in  the  most  perfect 
order,  the  most  finished  taste,  the  most  noble  scale  of 
household  private  government:  and  Uiis  hidden  silent 
working  of  a  great  machine  contributed  not  a  little  to 
the  mystery  and  respect  with  which  Lilia  was  inspired 
by  her  visits  to    '  c  Manor  Hall. 

There  had  been  great  intervals  between  these  visits. 
After  the  longest  of  these  intervals,  Lilia  had  not  only  to 
fe-enter  her  former  mode  of  life,  as  companion  to  the 
Recluse  Heiress^  but  to  acquire  some  new  habits.  She 
had  then  to  kneel  morning  and  evening  by  her  widowed 
cousin  in  the  privati?  chapel — to  join  every  week  in  the 
united  prayers  of  the  household  for  the  repose  of  thesuul 
of  a  certain  "Eustace  de  Grey,**  whom  Lilia  but  faintly 
remembered — ^to  learn  the  Latin  chaunts  and  litanies,  and 
to  listen  to  music  of  the  Mass,  sung  with  such  touching 
emotion  by  the  Recluse,  that,  young  as  she  was,  Lilia'a 
musical  genius  and  feeling  heart  were  moved  to  a  sensi* 
bility  she  could  not  comprehend. 

Then  came  another  pause  in  their  intercourse.  Lilia 
heard  the  unguarded  speech,  or  the  confidential  whisper, 
and  learned  by  degrees  that  the  Lady  of  the  Manor  Hall, 
in  whom  were  supposed  to  centre  the  two  rival  properties 
of  the  Carringtons  and  the  De  Greys,  had  left;  her  home 
to  become  a  Nun ! — ^that  her  fiither  had  been  privately 
married  for  years  to  a  Spanish  lady  of  high  rank— that  • 
«0D  was  bom  tto  the  estate  of  Elverton — that  the  Abbey 


iimiir;ifTiriirinrT|ij'pTitpirrmj''fty 


XOm  Xm  TBM  ABBXT. 


•1 


iuoted. 
rriage* 
in,  and 
illottcd 
perfect 
iciile  of 
I  silent 
ittle  to 
nspired 

k  Tints, 
only  to 
1  to  the 
s.  She 
ridowed 
k  in  the 
[the  auul 

faintly 
ies,and 
ouching 

LUia'a 
senn* 

LUia 

rliiaper, 

vHoll, 

Dpertiea 

home 

ivately 

—that  a 

Abbey 


Ruin  was  henceforth  to  oontidn  not  only  the  chapel  and 
priest's  house,  but  also  a  convent  of  Sisters  of  Mercy, 
and  to  afford  a  religious  shelter  to  the  founder's  widow 
as  a  humble  Sister  of  the  Order. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  Lilia  was  transferred  from 
the  governess  to  the  tutor ;  and  being  forbidden  all  inters 
course  with  a  Catholic,  who,  though  endurable  as  heiresa 
of  the  Manor,  had  proved  herself  extravagant  mough  to 
become  a  Nun,  LUia  only  heard  of  her  beloved  cousin 
by  accident  or  stealth,  till,  after  asoertuning  that  aha  had 
fulfilled  her  noviciate  and  taken  the  vows,  and  returned 
firom  the  Noviciate  Convent -to  the  Abbey  Ruin,  Lilia 
heard  no  more. 

Thl-ee  years  of  silence  were  then  succeeded  by  the  in* 
telligeno<^  that  the  awful  superstition  of  the  "  Perpetual 
Adoration'  was  to  be  established  in  the  Abbey  Convent. 
After  some  months  this  rumour  was  negatived,  and  an 
audible  whisper  fell  on  Lilia's  ear  that  Lady  de  Grey  had 
removed  from  the  convent — no  one  knew  where,  nor 
wherefore.  And  even  now  Lilia  knew  not  "  where  nor 
wherefore ;"  but,  as  she  sat  by  her  who  had  never  instilled 
into  her  young  mind  and  heart  but  principles  of  the 
loftiest,  purest  nature,  and  whose  every  action  had  hitherto 
proved  that  these  pure  and  lofty  principles  were  the  guide 
of  her  life,  LUia  required  no  details  nor  explanati,nu  ta 
trust,  to  sympatluze,  to  approve,  to  ardentiy  wish  suocesi 
to  the  present  pUgrimage  to  Rome. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison  now  drew  near  the  little 
group,  and  seated  hunself  next  to  LUia,  laying,  ''Have 
you  yet  learned,  Miss  Lilia,  to  paint  f 

"No,"  replied  she :  "Mr.  Everard  would  not  permit 


j^iBafJiri 


ff 


■■  ROIII  Aim  THt  ABBCr. 

me  to  paint  until  I  could  send  him  an  original  drawing 
without  a  fault  of  proportion  or  perspective.  The  lost 
drawing,  however,  did  please  him,  and  he  said  that  after 
I  should  have  bsen  a  few  weeks  in  Rome,  I  was  to  request 
Reverend  Mother  to  inquire  for  a  master  for  me.  But 
why.  Reverend  Sir,  do  you  asltl" 

"Because,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison,  "there  are  some 
fine  effects  of  light  and  deep  shadows,  which  the  admirers 
of  Salvator  Rosa  or  of  Rembrandt  would  lilte  to  store  up 
m  their  memory.  I  mean  those  figures  already  seated 
at  the  empty  supper-table,  here  on  declc,  with  the  lanterns 
glaring  on  part  only  of  each  head.  Loolc !  what  a  fine 
effect  is  given  to  that  Capuchin  friar,  and  to  the  old  man 
who  is  serving.    Can  you  remember  such  effects  ?" 

"I  think  I  shall  be  able,"  said  LUia,  "  for  to-morrow 
morning  I  can  make  a  memorandum  of  those  lights  and 
shadows  with  the  black  chalks  I  have  in  my  travelling  desk." 

"And  a  very  good  way,"  said  Mr.  Terrison.  "It  is 
the  custom  of  the  best  artists  to  sketch  off  in  this  •  chi- 
aro  oscuro,'  before  hazarding  the  coloured  picture." 

"  But,"  added  Lilia,  «  wUl  you  not  like  better.  Sir,  to 
secure  the  effect  yourself?  I  can  get  you  beautiful 
chalks  and  leather  stumps  to4U{^t,  if  I  may  go  into  the 
eabin  with  Lucy." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  laughing ;  « it  is  many 
years  since  I  have  done  anything  but  criticise,  which  is 
easy  enough." 

"  Pray,  Reverend  Father,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  "  are 
we  to  sit  at  that  long  table,  with  all  those  strange  men  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  he ;  "  but  I  have  arranged  for  you  as  1 
(tfd  at  Strasburgh,  where  they  could  not  give  u»  a  sep» 


sisiiai'tiaiw-r'i 


^te 


iwfag 
e  last 
after 
quest 
But 

some 
airera 
>reup 
leated 
iterns 
a  fine 
I  man 

orrow 

ts  and 

esk." 

It  is 

•chi- 

lir,  to 
iutiful 
the 

kany 
lichia 

are 
lenT 

asl 
|aep» 


amm 


^te  taUe.  We  shall  be  at  one  end,  you  aiid  your  Rev- 
erend Mother  will  face  each  other,  and  a  Kutuiui  priest, 
whom  I  recognised  on  first  comuig  on  boanl,  will  sit,  like 
myself  between  the  world  ^d  the  cloister." 

After  the  supper,  during  which  Lilia  andJLucy,  despite 
their  hunger,  took  a  few  peeps  along  the  table  at  the 
lights  and  shadows,  the  four  female  travellers  retired  to 
a  square  little  cabin,  where  they  said  their  night-prayers, 
and  entered  their  respective  berths  to  sleep  or  watch 
through  a  night  of  sunocating  heat  and  constraint 

In  the  morning  the  vessel  entered  the  port  of  Leghorn, 
waA  the  Religious  were  surprised  to  find  that,  although 
they  h^  intended  to  remain  all 'day  in  their  cabin,  they 
must  encounter  the&tigue  and  expense,  Uke  the  rest  of 
the  passengers,  of  going  in  a  boat  to  the  quay,  and  of 
spending  nearly  the  whole  day  in  L^hom.  l]his  was  at 
first  a  great  winoyanoe. 

"  We  must  resign  ou;rselve8,  however,"  said  t}ie  elder 
Beligioiis,  "to  v*at  is  ordered  for  us!  There  are 
churches,  and  perhaps  this  letter,  given  me  by  the  |Eng- 
lish  banker  at  Genoa,  may  prove  useful  to  us.  jt  is  od- 
jessed  to  the  Rev.  Father  Glomi,  a  Monk  of  the  same 
<  nrder  as  his  present  Holiness  Fope  Gregory.  I  have 
also  another  itjtter  to  the  same  Religious,  from  our  late 
kind  friends,  ll^r.  and  krs.  pTea.!* 

"  Yery  well,"  said  Mr.  Terrison.  «  Jf  the  old  >Ioi^ 
ttu)  take  care  of  you  two  Nuns  all  day,  I  shall  be  mudi 
ob%ed  to  him,  for  I  have  a  great  fancy  to  treat  our  tw« 
j;cung  Seculars  to  a  sigljt  of  Pisa." 

"Oh,  the  leaning  tower  of  Pisa !"  cried  Lilia. 


W  Smn  ARD  TBI  ABBCT. 

petition  of  boatmen,  Mr.  Terrison  got  his  little  putjr 
skfely  on  sliore,  aiid  toolc  thom  to  tlie  liotel,  wltero,  at  tlM 
bade  of  tlic  ground-floor,  the  Reverend  Father  Gionii, 
the  monlc  of  Camaldoli,  had  his  temporary  rooms.  The 
letters  were  sent  in  to  him,  and,  before  it  was  supposed 
possible  to  have  read  them,  the  vivacious  and  afiectionate 
aid  man  entered,  extending  iiis  open  arms  to  them,  in  the 
long  white  habit  of  his  Order. 

It  was  soon  ascertained  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Terrison 
might  set  off  by  railroad  with  his  two  young  companions 
to  Pisa ;  but  fii-st  they  must  all  have  break&st  at  Father 
GiomTs  sole  expense.  Thifi  treat  was  from  his  weeicly 
allowance  sent  to  him  during  his  absence  from  his  mo- 
nastery :  after  which,  witb  all  the  eager  attention  and 
olear  perception  retained  from  his  former  career  as  a 
lawyer,  he  listened  to  the  chief  object  of  the  elder  Nun's 
pilp>inuige  to  Rome.  The  good  old  Monk  took  the  most 
lively  interest  in  her  success,  and  spent  the  next  two 
hours  in  writing  letters  for  her  to  Rome,  and  in  giving 
her  a  long  private  paper  of  instructions  how  to  proceed, 
and  whom  to  mterest,  at  the  commencement  of  her  labo- 
rious undertaking.  Before  the  present  dedication  of  him- 
self to  God  Father  Giomi  had  been  a  husbuid  and  a  fa- 
ther, and  he  took  a  still  greater  interest  in  the  religious 
lady  before  him,  from  her  reminding  him  of  his  only 
daughter,  also  a  Religious,  and  Foundress,  after  many 
obstacles,  of  a  religious  institute  in  Genoa.  After  finidi 
ing  all  his  writings,  d^ring which  he  had  exacted  arigor- 
0U8  silenoe.  Father  Giomi  showed  them  a  gift  from  His 
Hdiuesa  of  his  own  likeness  in  oameo ;  and  then,  with 
the  greatest  simplicity,  changed  his  ooul  and  scapolaf  be> 


'■^%^: 


mauM  AMD  TH>  inn. 


91 


eputj 
b,»tUie 
Gionii, 
H.  The 
upposed  . 
«tionate 
a,  in  the 

rerrison 
ipanions 
t  Father 
I  weeki/ 
his  mo- 
tion and 
ser  aa  a 
it  Nun's 
he  most 
lext  two 
n  giving 
proceed, 
ler  labo* 
k  of  him* 
indafa- 
religious 
lis  only 
many 
erfinid) 
a  rigor* 
romHis 
en,  with 
Nilatbe* 


fcre  them,  and  took  them  to  see  the  prinoipil  churdieii 
of  Leghorn,  and  the  then  celebrated  quarter  of  the  Jews, 
who,  from  their  restrictions  elsewhere,  were  considered 
to  live  comparatively  in  a  paradise  in  the  free  port  o^ 
Leghorn.  The  winding  up  of  Father  Giomi's  day  of  be> 
nevolenoe  was,  on  the  return  of  the  trio  from  PUa,  con* 
Hgning  the  four  female  travellers,  with  an  effusion  of 
tenderness,  into  the  care  of  his  dear  friend  Monsignor 
Lrcti,  who  that  very  evening,  and  by  the  same  vessel, 
was  returning  from  Leghorn  by  CSvita  Vecchia  to  Rome. 
Monsignor  accepted  the  special  transfer  of  the  two  Beli* 
gious  with  the  cordial  benignity  of  his  nature,  and  ever 
after  proved  that  he  had  undertaken  the  charge  in  deed 
and  in  truth.  He  was,  however,  obliged  to  rejoin  his 
own  party,  and  our  friends  returned  to  the  Ercolano  as 
*hey  came,  in  a  little  tossing  boat  which,  from  the  in ' 
creased  swell  in  the  harbour,  threatened  now  to  dip  un 
der  the  lai^  vessel,  and  now  to  leap  on  her  deck. 

"  Oh,  this  is  worse  than  the  Simplon  1"  shrieked  the 
three  young  ones. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  cried  Mr.  Terrison,  equally  alarm- 
ed, *■  that  if  you  young  people  all  skip  out  directly  we 
toudi  the  ladder,  it  is  all  over  with  Reverend  Mother 
Ptads  and  myseli^we  must  inevitably  dip  into  the  wa- 
ter. Mary  Agnes,  I  amaahamed  of  you !  We  mustga 
out  alternate  sides." 

**  Go  you  out  first,  Sir,"  exclaimed  Lucy :  "  you  aiw 
too  heavy  for  so  small  a  boat" 

**  O,  no !  do  not  go  out  first,  Sir !"  cried  Sister  Agnea^ 
**  you  keep  it  steady." 

Sister  Agnes  was  ri|^l :  directly  the  Reverend  Gei. 


'^ 


^>. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


1^1^    12.5 

■50   "^^^     IM9HI 

i  ■-  IIIIIM 


2.2 


M 


'A 

1.6 


6" 


'/ 


?• 


PhotDgraphic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


73  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WESSVER.N.Y.  14SI0 

(716)  •72-4S03 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/iCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microraproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductlons  historiquas 


t-^<ifyrr  ii-Ttff  •  -Tff'r-— '■■■■"• 


HOME    AND  THK    ABBET. 

tteman  had  stepped  on  the  ladder,  off  danced  the  boat 
leaving  him  oonscience^tricken  on  the  steps.  Another 
wave  however,  brought  it  back,  and  it  wis  fastened  to 
the  ladder  until  the  elder  Religious  followed  the  rest  to 
the  deck. 

During   that  evening,  their  new  friend   Morsignor 
Lenti  crossed  oftentimes  from  his  own  party  to  converse 
'^•'th  them,  and  on  the  following  morning  the  two  groups 
partially  mingled,  and  our  travellers  became  personally 
acquainted  with  the  pious  and  charitable  baroness  Gri 
«oh,  of  whose  good  works  they  afterwards  heard  mul^h 
to  Rome,  and  whose  death,  consistent  with  her  life,  took 
place  a  few  months  after.    LiHa  looked  with  interest  at 
this,  to  her,  first  specimen  of  a  Roman  matron,  and  th^ 
sound  fell  pleasingly  on  her  ear,  when  the  fiaroness',  in 
explaining  that  she  had  merely,  with  her  husband  and 
son,  visited  Leghorn,  and  was  not  a  native  of  that  place 
added  with  something  of  conscious  dignity,  "Sono  lie! 
mana!" 

And  now,  behold  them  arrived  in  Civita  Vecchia,  and 
within  the  Papal  States !  A  few  more  hours,  and  our 
pilgrims  will  be  in  Rome.  The  last  day's  journey  was  • 
performed  in  company  with  a  Franciscan  Friar,  who  had 
eyed  them  with  great  good-will  during  the  last  two  days 
and  who  reported  himself  to  be  Father  Giacinto,  oae  ol 
the  Confessors  attached  to  Saint  Jolm  Lateran. 

"  If  you  will  come  to  that  church,"  said  he,  «  on  any 
Friday,  and  inquire  for  me  by  my  name  at  the  sacristy, 
I  shall  be  fetched  to  you ;  and  if  I  can  be  of  any  service 
you  may  command  me.*' 

M  they  drew  near  to  the  great  city,  Father  Giacinto 


ll^*^... 


KOm  AMD  TBI  ABBZT. 


•I 


poinlud  out  to  Mr.  Terrison,  who  had  not  been  there  for 
some  years,  the  progress  of  the  re^rection  of  St.  Paul's, 
which  had  been  destroyed  by  fire,  till  Lilia,  in  her  impa- 
tience to  see  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  interrupted  them, 
and  the  Friar  promised  to  tell  her  the  instant  it  could  be 
discerned.  In  the  meantime  she  amused  herself  with  the 
lizards  sporting  on  the  scorched  sand-banks  of  the  road- 
side ;  till,  suddenly  remembering  all  the  deep  and  eiar- 
nest  thoughts  which  must,  during  this  last  stage,  be  con- 
sentrated  in  the  mind  of  her  Religious  Guardian,  Lilia 
gently  raised  her  veil,  but  as  instantly  di*opped  it,  and 
her  little  sentence  of  fond  sympathy  was  postponed,  for 
she  felt  that  she  could  not  interrupt  the  state  of  wrapt 
devotion  which  had  rendered  the  Religious  insensible  to 
the  details  of  the  journey. 

"  There !  Signorina,"  said  the  Friar  at  length,  "  there 
is  our  far-famed  dome !"  and  Lilia,  with  an  exclMnatioa 
of  surprise,  beheld  in  the  distance,  in  truth  a  vast  dome, 
and  nothing  more,  as  if  in  a  desert  of  its  own,  reposing 
on  the  verdure.  She  felt  disappointed,  because  she  had 
expected  to  see  Rome,  or  at  any  rate  the  temple  of  St. 
Peter's. 

"  It  is  only  in  cons- -quence  of  its  immense  elevation," 
said  Padre  Giacinto,  "  that  you  see  the  dome  at  all  fh>m 
this  road :  the  entrance  to  Rome  from  Civita  Vecchia  is 
ihe  least  fiivourable.  However,  you  will  so  &r  be  in- 
llemnified  for  entering  Rome  by  the  Borgo,  that  you  will 
•otu^Uy  pass  the  colonnades  of  St.  Peter's." 

All  this  was  fulfilled  in  another  two  hours ;  and  Lilu^ 
Lucy,  and  even  Sister  Agnes,  loolced  out  of  one  window, 
(hen  out  of  another,  feeling  strange  sensations  at  beiqg 


(    l;i> 


BOMZ  AND  TBI  AB8BT. 

in  Borne,  and  actually  passing  St.  Peter's !  Padre  Oi«> 
olnto  had  now  left  them. 

**  Do  you  know  where  you  are,  Madam  1"  said  Mr. 
Terriscm  to  the  ulent  and  immovable  Religious  beside 
him. 

"  Perfectly,"  was  the  reply :  "  and  if  you  can  say  Mass 
to-morrow,  remember  my  necessities,  and  the  great  work 
to  which  I  am  called." 

<*  I  do  hope  to  say  Mass  to-morrow  morning,"  replied 
he,  "  and  to  say  it  here  at  the  tomb  of  the  Apostles.  I 
am  too  uncertain  of  the  time  to  propose  your  assLstiDg 
personally — ^but  I  never  forget  you." 

Hw  Belifious  rapliad,  '*ThMiksbe  toCMr* 


<msfm»m. 


■■■.'■iia.Vi£f< 


MNHliii 


■OU  Ann  TBI  ABBBT. 


CHAPTER  EL 

■  Oh !  pUttrin,  whjr  goert  tkon  wMpio^  aloM^ 
To  >  lonb,  where  with  tuOng  en  1  prayer 
Thoa  dMt  honour  •  lOiriDe  of  but  dnit  and  of  feiMi 
The  ipirit  end  mhU  an  not  theie. 

-Oo'.  go,  with  the  bine  rault  of  Heaven  Bbov«i 
To  make  thy  eanw  known  to  the  fleint ; 
For  there,  fttni  the  rexioni  of  light  end  of  lef% 
He  will  heuken,  and  inooour  thy  plainL" 

**  Not  »o,  for  the  Saint  o'er  theie  boaea  and  Ote  iH| 
E'ar  hoven,  hii  aid  tc  beitow 
Oa  tlie  pilgrim  who  honoura  hia  raliea,  la  iiw^ 
Their  Mwl  will  protect  hiai  below." 

OoB  travellers  had  entered  Rome  on  the  8rd  of  SeptaV 
ber,  the  month  there  dedicated  to  commemorate  tL« 
most  precious  Blood  of  orr  Lord.  On  the  following 
morning,  after  a  Mass  and  Communion  of  Thanksgiving 
at  the  nearest  church,  the  two  Religious  and  their  young 
companions  bi^an,  in  devout  silence,  their  p:  Vimage  oa 
foot  to  St  Peter's  tomb.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Terrisoa 
had  comnuinded  that  it  should  not  be  performed  bar». 
foot,  and  obedience  being  better  than  sacrifice,  they 
added  no  austerities  to  the  fittigue  of  so  long  a  walk 
fasting,  and  ab-eady  exhausted  by  their  journey. 

And  now  behold  them  crossing  the  vast  piazza,  be* 
tween  the  two  fountains,  and  ascending  in  the  centre  the 
long  but  easy  flight  of  steps  to  the  portal.  A  beggar 
pushes  aside  the  heavy  leathern  curtain,  but  obstnioti 


ROHB   AND  mi'XTitt^i. 

the  way,  clamorous  for  relief.  The  demand  seems  fa- 
opportune,  but  alms,  prayer,  and  fasting  are  the  united 
means  to  obtain  mercy:  the  beggar  is  relieved— the 
pilgrims  entei^— they  kneel-— they  fall  prostrate— and 
from  the  breast  of  the  elder  gush<  s  forth  at  length  the 
long  pent-up  emotions  of  years.  She  felt  to  be  in  a 
home  where  not  only  sympathy  but  help  would  be  given 
her ;  and  after  some  instants  of  irrepressible  sobs  and 
tears,  she  arose,  and  drew  near  the  tomb — again  praying 
with  more  distinct  knowledge  of  her  several  necessities, 
and  a  still  firmer  conviction  that  her  prayer  was  heard, 
and,  through  the  intercession  of  the  Holy  Apostles, 
would  be  answered. 

The  younger  Nun  and  the  two  girls,  who  had  wit- 
nessed  with  gri^f  and  terror  an  emotion  so  unprece- 
dented, and  so  far  beyond    their    intrusion,  silently 
watched  till  the  wonted  calm  of  their  Rieligious  Friend 
and  Guide  should  return  in  prayer,  and  then  ventured 
to  move  round  the   tomb  and  high   altar,  considering 
the  vast  proportions  of  the  cathedral,  but  not  hazardinjf 
to  leave  their  central  position,  as  it  was  there  the  ap- 
pointment had  been  made  with  the  Reverend  Mr.  Terri. 
son  to  join  them.     In  a  short  time  he  appeared,  and  m 
good  spirits,  having  been  successful  in  his  hopes  of  say. 
iflg  Mass,  and  having  finished  his  thanksgiving.     He  was 
accompanied  by  an  intimate  fl-iend,  one  of  the  Canons  of 
St.  Peter's ;  and  the  two  Priests  now  conducted  the  three 
younger  visitants  to  the  principal  monuments  and  mo- 
wtos  round  the  church. 

She  who  continued  kneeling  at  the  Apostle's  tomb 
mt^nbyt  alone,  fa  aotual  solitude  <^p<Braon  as  of  thought 


^■11 


BOm   AND  TBI   ABBKT. 


vt 


She   YTM  eonscious  of  being  once  more  beneath  St. 

Peter's  dome— of  being  surrounded  by  all  that  she  had 

once  so  much  admired,  only  as  the  association  gave  hope 

and  courage  to  her  soul.     Yes !  she  was  desolate,  mis. 

judged,  persecuted,  but — she  was  in  Rome !    Yes !  she 

was  alone  •  but  above  her  was  that  mighty  dome— firm^ 

vast,  and  exalted  as  her  purpose.     Yes,  she  was  hidden 

m  mystery;  but,  like  the  ever-burning  lamps  around 

her,  had  been  the  inspirations  given,    Qod  had  called 

her  to  pursue  a  path  in  which  He  had  opened  to  her  at 

times  a  length  of  way,  with  dearest  indications  of  Hia 

will— at  other  times  had  showed  her  but  a  day's  journey, 

and  that  through  fog  and  mist,  commanding  things  at  tha 

time  imposmble,  or  irreooncileable  one  with  the  other : 

but  the  Holy  Ghost  cannot  oontradict  Himself— the  oonw 

mands  of  the  All-wise  God  must  be,  like  Hiniseli^  all. 

wise.    These,  His  commands,  given  at  various  times, 

and  seemingly  in  contradiction,  were  doubtless  parts  of 

»  vast  whole,  the  rest  of  which  would  be  revealed  to  her 

in  His  own  good  time,  and  confirmed  by  His  Churoh. 

"  Oh,  thou  I"  cried  she,  "  who  thrice  fiUtered,  and  wert 
thrice  forgiven  I  Thou,  whose  love  was  thrice  demand- 
ed, «nd  thriee  confirmed  !  Iliou,  whose  fiuth  became  a 
rock  to  the  CSiurch,  and  whose  hope  gave  her  light,  feed 
this  poor  lamb !  Give  me,  m  this  thy  own  city  a  guide 
who  can  discern  the  mysteries  of  God ;  and  for  mykr>!^ 
obtain  grace  to  obey,  in  child-like  confidence,  do<»lity, 
•nd  peaee.** 

Nor  did  she  pray  for  herself  alone :  fervent  were  bar 
■upplioatiottg  for  spiritual  guides,  once  given  and  with. 
dbtwB ;  for  Religious  Superiors,  once  trusted  and  esteem- 


I 


u 


ROHX  AMD  THE   AtBMT. 

;  for  loved  Sisterhood*,  to  be  seen  and  heard  no 
more ;  and,  as  in  the  case  of  Job,  wh,>se  own  necessitiefl 
were  relieved  after  he  had  prayed  for  his  friends,  so,  ere 
•he  left  St.  Peter's  tomb,  did  the  Religious  receive  the 
Indication  she  had  requested,  concerning  her  spiritual 
Guide  and  Director  in  Rome.  While  thus  Icneeling  in 
supplication,  an  aged  Canon  of  the  cathedral  drew  near, 
holding  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  trembling  hand :  he  knelt 
beside  her,  and  pushing  the  paper  immediately  beneath 
her  eyes,  she  saw  written,  with  a  note  of  interrogation, 
••  Suor  Maria  Paula  ?" 

She  quiclily  dn^w  forth  her  pencil,  and  wrote  be* 
Death,  "  Reverend  issimo  in  Christo  Padre,  Si." 

"  Ah !  beuta  esse !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  subdued  tone ; 
then  added,  "  I  have  not  yet  said  Mass — I  will  say  it 
for  you  below  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Tomb,  and  I  will 
send  a  Sacristan  to  tell  you  when  I  can  have  my  turn. 
Do  you  recognise  an  old  friend  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed!"  she  replied:  '*!  reongniae  the  ever 
kind  Abete  Zachcria." 

**  I  have  been  a  Canon  here,"  tt^d  he,  "  ever  since  the 
year  you  left  us.  I  received  the  letters  you  sent  me 
from  time  to  time,  till  about  three  years  ago  I  re- 
ceived no  more.  I  have  just  heard  of  ypur  being  here 
from  the  English  Priest  who  came  with  you.  And 
DOW  that  I  have  to  pray  for  your  intention,  tell  me  a 
little  about  it  ?" 

This  was  briefly  stated,  and  thb  Religions  remained 
once  more  alone :  but  before  the  Sxoristan  came  to  fetch 
her  to  the  Confessional  of  St.  Peter,  her  Religious  Sister 
■nd  the  rest  had  joined  her,  and  they  all  descended  into 


gifiiifrniTiiriir'  inriiifiii 


AOMB  AMD  TH>  ABBIT. 

die  oatacombs,  where  the  Canonico  Zacheria  was  vesting, 
and  a  Dishop  was  disroWng  at  the  altar  of  the  tomb, 
while  the  little  chapel  was  partially  changing  its  congre- 
gation.  The  two  Religious  were  conducted  forward  by 
the  Sacristan,  who  then  went  to  uiform  the  Canonico  that 
they  had  already  communicated.  The  Bishop  remained 
to  hear  this  Mass  in  thanlcsgiving. 

Once  more  kneeling  within  the  immediate  precincts  of 
the  sacred  fount  of  the  Apostles  Peter  and  Paul,  one  the 
first  Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth,  the  other  His  first  Mission, 
ary,  by  whose  remains  she  liad,  sixteen  years  before, 
returned  her  heartfelt  thanksgiving  for  earlier  mercies 
received,  Geraldin&— in  matured,  if  not  declining  yeara— 
brought  hither  once  again,  not  only  by  the  immediate 
voice  of  God,  but  by  the  expulsive  events  of  His  Provi- 
dence, now  felt  her  heart  dilate  with  a  joy  unspeakable. 
Again  she  shed  tears— not  with  the  p^ul  and  violent 
emotion  of  her  first  entrance  to  the  Church,  but  with  the 
soft  flow  of  consolation.    And  yet  she  knew  liot  that, 
while  the  Mass  of  Canonico  Zacheria  was   proceeding, 
there  knelt  behind  her  those  who  from  that  hour  would 
prove  themselves  to  be  the  instruments  chosen  by  God 
to  assist  her ;  and  that  in  the  first  public  act  resultuig 
from  her  successful  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  the  holy  Prelate 
near  her  would  hold  the  delegated  power  as  Celebrant. 

The  Holy  Sacrifice  being  concluded,  the  two  parties 
moved  above ;  and  a  lady  dressed  in  deep  mourmng,  who 
appeared  to  head  the  group  of  pious  strangers,  advanced 
with  a  light  and  gracefiil  step  towards  the  elder  Religious, 
«id  m  a  manner  wherein  dignity,  courtesy,  and  franknesa 
were  mingled,  requested  to  be  permitted  the  happuiesa  of 


•'  ,     ' 


pir 


I 


ItO 


BMU  Ain»  nn  ammet. 


iodudiag  herself  and  companions  in  her  partj,  who  were 
lust  going  to  partake  vt  refreshments  in  the  parlour  of 
the  Saorialios.  This  kind  oflfor,  so  cordially  given,  was 
•8  cordialljr  accepted,  and  tlie  united  group  were  ushered 
into  a  long  narrow  room,  where  they  were  served  with 
eoflbe,  toasted  cake,  and  orangeade.  The  next  arrange- 
ment was  the  conducting  our  two  Religious  to  their 
Ikinies ;  and  this  pres«ited  some  difficulty,  fur  the  Reve- 
rend Mr.  Terrison  (who  could,  they  thought,  have  taken 
charge  of  Lilia  and  Lucy)  had  slipped  away,  and  their 
Religious  Ouarduns  would  not  desert  them.  However, 
their  new  friend,  whom  they  heard  adVewed  as  "Prin- 
cess," arranged  that  her  two  ladles  attendant  should  resign 
Aeir  seats  in  the  carriage  to  the  "two  Reverend  Mo- 
thers,"  and  follow  in  a  hired  one  with  the  young  persons. 
This  plan  \mag  adopted,  the  next  ai&ir  discussed  iu 
the  0anon*8  parlour  was,  whether  the  Biriiop,  whose  Mass 
had  been  that  morning  the  attraction  to  St  Peter's,  was 
to  dhie  a(  the  house  <^  the  Princess,  or  with  the  young 

Duchess  de  F and  her  aunt  the  Dowager  Duchess ; 

his  lordship  protesting  agamst  having  himself  to  decide 
BO  delfasate  a  pmiit.  In  the  meantime,  wfaUe  the  Princess 
and  the  young  Duchess  were  endeavouring  each  to  have 
Uer  own  way  without  annoying  the  other,  the  mild  «id 
benevolent  Rnhop  gave  his  benediction  to  tJie  English 
p«rty,  tad  conversed  with  them  fluently  in  their  own 
language.  At  losgth  the  Duchess,  a  graceful  young  crea- 
ture, dressed  somewhat  as  the  elegant  devotee  described 
by  St  Jerome,  came  to  ^m  full  of  joy,  and  after  kissing 
the  hands  of  the  two  Religious,  and  begging  their  prayers, 
iaANrmed  tha  Bisht^  that  she  had  carried  her  point  witi 


'Jte 


•fmmt^M 


«Hi 


■■VWi 


who  were 


BOMB  AVD  TBB  ABBBT. 


m 


iie  Princaw,  and  should  expect  the  Ueufaig  of  his  Lord 
■hip's  presence  at  the  usiuJ  hour,  if  agreeable  to  him. 
All  were  now  ready  to  depart ;  but  where  wae  the  Priiw 
oess?  Most  probably  in  the  church,  to  which  the  attendant 
ladies  had  already  returned :  perhaps  she  had  been  a  little 
vexed  to  lose  the  Bishop  that  day — at  any  rate  she  was 
not  to  be  found.  One  of  her  ladies,  however,  had  seen 
her  kneeling  before  the  sculptured  representation  of  Santa 
Giuliana  Faloonieri,  but  the  other  had  descried  her  flitting 
towards  the  altar  of  La  Pieta,  near  the  entstuice  of  the 
church ;  and,  aa  they  all  bent  their  steps  that  way,  Litia 
stopped  with  interest  to  observe  a  Negro,  respectably 
dressed,  kneeing  before  the  well-known  seated  figure  of 
St.  Peter,  to  Mhich  they  had  already  paid  their  homage  of 
obedience  by  |tressing  their  lips  and  forehead  to  his  foot 
Liiia  was  certfiio  that  the  pow  Negro  had  derived  conso. 
lation  in  fin<]ltng  St.  Peter  as  black  as  himself;  and  no 
longer  quBiTellod  with  Uie  ancient  sculptor  for  selecting  » 
block  Oi  jet  marble  from  which  to  chisel  the  Prince  of 
the  Apostles.  As  the  elder  Religious,  who  had  advanced 
a  little  to  gain  a  few  minutes  b^tre  tiie  altar  of  the  mosi 
Holy  Sacrament,  was  there  kneeling  in  adoration,  a  lady 
came  beside  her,  uttering  in  a  low  voice,  in  Italian,  all 
those  earnest  and  impassioned  asjnrations  towards  that 
Mystery  of  Love,  which  soon  became  &miliar  to  tha 
English  Nun.  This  Lady  was  the  Princess,  and  GeraU 
dine  ever  found  perfectly  true  what  her  Highness  after- 
wards said  to  her  attendant  ladies — that  die  was  **  alwava 
to  be  found,  always  ready,  when  really  wanted !" 

In  die  portico  they  discovered  Uw  Rev.  Mr.  Terrison, 
«bo  had  fully  hoped  to  make  hia  escape  unseen,  but  had 


i 


I 


lOS 


mom   AHD  TBI   ABBBT. 


been  -jetalned  by  agidn  meeting  old  aoquaintanoei,  ani 
M  much  ttnnoyed  to  be  overtaken  by  the  party  of  ladiea 
as  it  woa  in  his  good  nature  to  be— not  so  much  at  having 
to  encounter  a  Princess,  as  to  show  himself  in  his  three- 
cornered  Roman  hut  to  "  those  two  silly  girls,  who  had 
already  been  giggling"  at  his  buckles ;  and  as  to  be  taking 
any  more  care  of  them  in  Rome,  the  thing  was  impossi> 
ble— the  scandal  would  be  irreparable. 

"  No,"  said  ho,  "  I  am  about  to  wash  my  hands  entirely 
of  them,  especially  Miss  Lilla,  whom  the  people  are  eyeing 
already. 

"  But  you  are  so  old.  Sir,"  suggested  Lucy. 

"  Nonsense,  child !"  said  he :  "  nobody  is  old  in 
Rome." 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Terrison's  embarrassment  was  traai^ 
lated  to  the  Princess,  not  omitting  Lucy's  naive  consola- 
tion, she  entered  immediately  into  the  dramatic  charao> 
'/eristics  of  the  scone,  but  entirely  agreed  with  the  Reve> 
rend  Father,  and  tuld  him  in  her  most  felicitous  manner 
that  she  hoped  to  supply  his  place  to  the  two  young  per- 
sons, not  only  that  morning,  but  whenever  an  opportunity 
occurred. 

Mr.  Terrison's  spirits  revived,  and  finding  that  the 
Princess,  who  he  feared  would  apeak  only  in  French, 
addressed  him  in  Italian  with  the  perfect  Roman  intona- 
tion, some  sentences  were  exchanged  to  their  mutual 
satisfoctioh,  and  he  even  submitted  to  have  his  hand 
kissed  by  all  the  fair  strangers  as  he  took  his  leave. 

Two  carriages  were  now  driven  up  to  the  colonnade 
of  the  Vati&.  through  which  they  were  passing,  and  the 
Princess  inquired  whether  the  Reve"end  Ladies  would 
like  to  visit  any  other  chcrohos  before  returning  to  ibrir 


Ui 


ItjUM  AMD  TUB  ABBBT. 


lome.  They  declined  the  kind  offer  for't.r.i;  day,  and 
gave  the  address  to  tlie  Locanda,  whioh  had  beoouM 
thoir  home. 

"  Why,  that  is  the  very  palano  where  I  am  promised 
a  floor  in  the  Spring !  If  you  should  still  be  there,  my 
Reverend  Mothers,  what  happiness  for  me  I  I  cannot 
have  the  apartments  sooner,  because  a  '  Milor  Inglese* 
has  already  engaged  them  by  letters  from  England.  Jle 
has  not  yet  arrivjd,  and  I  hope  will  not  linger  here  atler 
the  Winter ;  for  the  intention  of  the  pious  master  of  the 
Lxainda  is  that  it  may  become  a  '  Pilgrim  TT  v  jge,'  espe* 
cutlly  for  Ecclesiastics.  There  is  a  private  st.^^^  •  ise,  and 
•  back  centre-room,  accessible  to  the  whole  hou^,  which 
would  make  an  excellent  chapel.  If  yc"  are  obliged  to 
remain  some  time  in  T'.ome,  this  mi£ . .  lie  a  great  con 
Bolation  to  you;  but  at  present  you  are  bound,  cf 
course,  to  pay  your  devotions  to  the  publio  tiiiors  and 
•hrines." 

Arrived  at  the  palace  in  question,  our  two  K^Iigious 
took  a  grateful  leave  of  their  new  friend,  who  had  not 
time  to  enter  the  house,  being  engagerl  in  a  Novena  at 
the  church  of  Son't  Andrea  delle  Fratte,  the  Itour  for 
which  was  just  at  hand :  so,  being  joined  by  her  two 
ladies,  this  Princess,  destined  by  Divine  Providence  to 
be,  and  to  find,  from  that  day  a  real  friend  for  time  utid 
eternity,  was  driven  off  to  the  altar  where  our  Blessed 
Lady  appeared  to  Alphonsus  Ratisbon,  and  where  the 
Novena  in  honour  of  her  nativity  was  continuing.  There, 
ts  was  her  wont,  the  Princess  prayed  for  those  she  had 
•nst  hit,  and  turned  to  the  spiritual  advantage  of  the  one 
who  had  the  most  attracted  her,  the  already  deep  intei'Mt 
she  had  excited  in  her  heart. 


! 


I 


104 


■pm  AND  TUI   ABNX. 


CHAPTER  X. 


1.^ 


Tk*  vivid  mtmory  of  4«p«itod  voitt 
Ware  (UU  too  dcaplj  dMr  uid  ud  •  itnl^ 

If,  hkTiag  parted  on  UUi  wmrj  Mrth, 
W*  niKht  not  raeogniw  that  wral  agalm 

Bat  now  k  welcome  we  expect  ebowi 
Fniin  that  rememberad  Mul,  diitiMtlj  mn ', 

Let  ai  bot  lead  like  Him  a  lib  of  love, 
Let  ui  but  live  ■«  courteontljr  and  pure.* 

Oh  the  following  moniiiig  the  two  ReligiouB  wen 
admitted  to  their  first  audience  of  our  English  Cardinal, 
and  the  Senior  beheld  the  Spiritual  Director  appointed 
her  by  Heaven.  Yet  only  for  awhile  I  Like  all  givou 
to  aid  on  her  heavenward  course,  this  last  great  booa 
must  have  its  limit,  for  already  had  that  saintly  being 
approached  the  world  of  spirits — already  on  his  holy 
brow  had  fallen  the  rays  of  a  life  still  purer,  brighter 
than  his  own ! 

Even  in  this,  her  first  interview,  our  Religious  Pilgrim 
found  no  difficulty  in  giving  a  slight  sketch  of  her  object 
ii  coming  to  Rome,  and  of  the  hopes  she  had  ventured  to 
form  of  the  protection  and  assistance  of  his  Eminence. 
Then  with  genuine  feeling,  whiAh  rendered  doubly 
graceful  his  habitual  politeness,  the  Cardinal  responded 
to  the  trust  she  reposed  in  him,  and  so  inspired  her  heart 
with  confidence  and  gratitude,  that  immediately  was 

•  Evety  action  and  convanation  neorded  of  the  lamented  Cardinal  Aetna 
tiilrieUyMagtapUeal  > 


SaWHMBM 


mmmMmms 


'•T.%5tSli'.\v.'.j.-. 


rt*i 


itt 


igious  were 
ish  Cardinal, 
>r  appointed 
ike  all  givou 
great  boou 
laintly  being 
on  his  holy 
er,  brighter 

oua  Pilgrim 
f  her  object 
ventured  to 
i  Eminence, 
red  doubly 
A  responded 
ed  her  heart 
diately  was 

Cardinal  Aotoa 


BCMB  ASD  TB>  ABBIT. 


108 


formed  the  spiritual  tie,  that  ended  not  wiU)  death,  nor 
even  then  required  essentially  to  dumge  its  sacred  cha- 
racter. 

In  a  few  days  after  this  first  interview,  the  Oardinal 
returned  in  form  the  visit  of  the  English  Religious 
Sisters.  It  was  in  the  evening,  and  the  Master  of  the 
Locanda  conducted  his  Eminence  into  a  lower  reception- 
room,  and  then  mounted  to  the  top  of  the  house  to  inform 
the  Religious  Ladies  and  Lilia  of  die  arrival  of  the  Cardi- 
nal. In  the  mean  time,  all  the  Ecclesiastics  and  Religious 
Men  of  different  Orders  in  the  "  Pilgrim-House, '  in- 
cluding a  venerable  Abbot  of  La  Trappe,  in  his  white 
coul,  had  eagerly  collected  around  his  Eminence,  so  that, 
although  it  was  a  holy  crowd,  our  English  trio  felt  a  little 
timid  when  th^  reached  the  open  door  of  the  reception' 
room.  However,  as  it  was  knovm  thai  the  visit  was  to 
them,  they  were  no  sooner  descried  than  the  room  was 
cleared,  and  they  were  left  to  welcome  in  their  turn  their 
honoured  guest  * 

The  chief  event  ift>w  in  prospect,  to  occupy  tha 
thoughts  and  prayers  of  Lilia,  was  her  Confirmation ; 
and  not  only  did  Uie  two  Religious  Sisters  devote  them^ 
aelves  to  assist  in  tlie  necessary  preparation,  but  Mr. 
Terrison,  who  would  otherwise  have  proceeded  imme> 
diately  to  Naples,  remained  in  Rome  to  instruct  her, 
and  to  arrange  with  some  Bidiop  w  admliister  the  &•• 
yamental  rite. 

During  this  fortnight  of  preparation  Lilia  yn»  favoured 

with  great  spiritual  consolations,  and  often  secretly  siir^ 

ptised  diofle  with  whom  she  conversed  by  the  profound 

thiNigbts,  M  w«U  M  ardent  aflbctions,  whicli  assembled  ta 

5* 


'*'SWP«p«.v.,  -.t-wr-jsw^v* 


iO« 


BOm  AHD  Tra  ABBCr. 


■>: 


bid  welcome  to  the  fi-esh  grace  to  be  conveyed  to  her 
•oul.  Her  former  mode  of  viewing  the  unseen  world, 
and  of  expressing  her  hopes  and  wishes  still  remained, 
which  the  Ileverend  Mr.  Terrison  permitted,  as  Fatlwr 
Duago  had  a  year  before,  only  interrupting  her  meta- 
physical speculations  when  he  saw  that  more  positive 
truth  was  required. 

"  Four  Angels,*'  said  she,  "  will  now  descend  to  con- 
vey to  my  soul  four  more  Virtues  from  the  treasure  of 
God's  Virtues ;  and  are  to  be  proper  to  my  created  soul, 
in  order  to  guard  and  strengthen  the  three  Virtues  I 
received  in  my  Baptism,  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity, 
called  'Theological.'  Now  I  am  to  receive  Prudence, 
Justice,  Fortitude,  and  Temperance,  which  may  well  be 
called  '  Cardinal'  Virtues ;  and  I  feel,  Reverend  Sir,  that 
my  soul  requires  them,  for  I  am  not  yet  fit  for  action  L. 
God's  service.  I  find  that  whenever  I  am  called  upon  for 
any  decision  of  a  practical  nature,  I  am  very  childish ; 
and  I  perceive  that  although  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  are 
indeedthe  first  and  best  Virtues,*  yet,  if  we  are  to  out- 
live our  childhood,  and  to  serve  Qod  in  a  manner  be- 
coming His  dignity,  we  require  further  supernatural 
assistance.  Therefore  I  conclude  that  the  reason  why  so 
macy  persons  blunder,  and  do  imprudent  things,  is  be- 
cause they  have  never  been  v  ;?nfirmed,  or  have  received 
the  Sacrament  unworthily." 

Mr.  Terrison  smiled,  and  replied, "  Wemust  becarefiil 
how  we  speculate  on  the  conduct  of  others,  or  inquire  into 
the  hidden  causes  of  their  actions ;  but  you  are  quite 
right  respecting  the  essential  qualities  of  this  sacrament, 
•od  ita  necessity  fat  all  who  survive  thur  first  years  of 


msm 


BOMB  AHD  THK   ABBKT. 


lOV 


«luldhood.  The  Virtue  of  Prudence  governs  the  intellect, 
Jp'.^ice  governs  the  will,  Fortitude  the  passions,  Tempe. 
ranee  the  appetites.  Each  of  these  Virtues  has  two 
enemies,  namely,  its  opposite  and  its  extreme :  the  opj)©- 
aite  of  Prudence  being  Imprudence,  and  its  extreme  being 
Cunning ;  the  opposite  of  Justice  being  Injustice,  and  its 
extreme  being  Rigour ;  the  opposite  of  Fortitude  being 
Cowardice,  and  its  extreme  being  Audacity ;  the  opposite 
of  Temperance  being  Intemperance,  and  its  extreme  being 
Insensibility." 

"  This  is  very  interesting,"  said  Lilia, "  even  supposing 
that  I  had  not  a  personal  interest  in  keeping  each  Virtue 
pure  and  free  from  the  two  Vices  which  will  assail  her, 
and  which,  I  conclude,  will  be  in  the  Iceoping  of  that  very 
fellen  Angel  whose  forfeited  place  in  Heaven  I  was  bom 
and  baptized  to  occupy,  and  who  is  always  following  me 
about  with  a  persotml  and  particular  envy.  But  all  in 
vain,  Mr.  Terrison ;  I  never  will  choose  dvil,  but  will 
always  keep  my  Guardian  Angel  close  to  me." 

♦'  Well,  I  Binoerely  hope  you  will,"  said  he.  "  And 
now  what  think  you  of  the  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
iHiich  are  to  descend  on  your  soul  ?" 

"In  addition  1"  demanded  Lilia.  "Why  the  three 
Theological  and  the  four  Cardinal  Virtues  make  seven 
gifts  from  God.    What  more  can  I  want  1" 

"  You  will  perceive,  as  I  enumerate  them,"  said  Mr. 
Terriaon,  "  that  these  seven  gifts  of  the  Spirit  are  esaen- 
tial  to  arrive -at  the  perfection  of  the  Christian  life,  be- 
cause  they  are  as  a  flight  of  steps,  by  which  we  mouni  to 
the  height  of  sanctity.  I  shall  enumerate  them  to  you, 
liDwover,  in  the  revew*  rf  the  order  given  by  the  Pro 


■■■I 


td 


108 


ROUI   AND  TUK    ABDKr. 


piwt,  for  o»  counted  from  HesTen  to  earth,  and  my  affair 
i«  to  conduct  you  from  earth  to  Heaven.  The  iir^st  Htep, 
therefore,  ia  the  '  Fear  of  God,'  which  arrests  the  soul 
from  oflTunding  Him  by  sin ;  the  second  step  is  'Piety,' 
or  to  obey  and  serve  God ;  the  third  is  '  Knowledge,' 
which  is  not  given  wholly  by  inspiration,  or  rather  I 
would  say  that  the  gift  would  lie  dormant  until  roused 
by  means  of  oral  instruction  or  books ;  the  fourth  step 
is  '  Strength,'  to  overcome  the  difficulties  and  tempta- 
tions of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  Devil ;  the  fifth  step 
is  '  Counsel,'  to  weigh  well  and  mukc  choice  of  that 
which  is  best  among  good  things,  and  to  reject  the  evil 
concealed  under  the  appearance  of  good  by  the  Devil ; 
the  sixth  step  is  '  Understanding,'  or  intellectual  power, 
by  which,  when  the  soul  has  steadily  mounted  the  pre- 
vious steps,  she  is  enabled  to  view  and  penetrate  into 
the  Divine  Mysteries ;  the  seventh  and  last  is  the  gift  of 
*  Wisdom,'  which  not  only  comprehends,  but  loves  the 
Divine  mysteries  and  perfections,  and  is,  according  (q 
Saint  Bernard,  the  union  of  love  and  intellect." 

**  I  hope  I  shall  ascend  these  steps  after  my  Confirnm- 
tion,"  said  Lilia.  "  But  some  of  these  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  seem  to  be  a  repetition  of  the  Virtues  we  have 
already  spoken  of.  For  instance,  '  Fear  of  God'  and 
'  Piety'  are  surely  included  in  '  Faith,'  and  '  Strength' 
is  '  Fortitude.'  But,"  added  she,  after  a  little  pause, 
*'  I  perceive  a  shade  of  difference  between  Strength  and 
Fortitude :  Strength  may  be  power  of  the  mind  to  over- 
tom«,  and  Fortitude  power  of  the  mind  to  tndure.  I 
have  as  yet  neither  the  one  nor  the  other." 

*'  You  have  made  a  juat  distinotiop,"  said  Mr.  Terri* 


BOMB   A>D  TBI   ABBST. 


109 


■on ;  *«  ma;  you  also  make  a  proper  use  of  the  power  t«.» 
overcome  your  apiritual  enemies,  and  the  power  to  en- 
dure the  afflictions  of  life !  With  respect  to  your  no- 
tion that,  in  the  gift  of  Faith  bestowed  in  baptism,  you 
have  already  received  the  •  Fear  of  God'  and  •  Piety,' 
I  would  ask  you  what  is  Faith  ]" 

Lilia  replied,  "  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  honied 
for — ^the  evidence  of  things  unseen.  It  is  to  believe  all 
that  God  has  revealed  to  His  Church." 

"It  is  so,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "and  the  'Fear  of 
God'  includes  the  reasons  why  we  fear  Him^ncludes 
self-knowledge,  and  consequently  humility :  it  is  there- 
fore a  distinct  gift.  And  'Piety'  is  the  practical  power 
to  act  according  to  our  Faith,  that  we  may  not  rest  in 
barren  theories  uid  speculations,  but  offer  to  God  the 
willing  labour  and  service  of  our  whole  life.  You  will, 
therefore,  in  addition  to  the  gift  of  Obedienoe,  included 
in  'Faith,'  receive  the  gift  of  Humility,  included  in  the 
'Fear  of  God,'  and  the  gift  of  Action,  included  in 
•  Piety.'  Observe  how  necessary  it  is  that,  in  receiving 
all  these  rich  intellectual  gifts  in  Confirmation,  the  foun- 
dation step  should  be  Humility." 

"  I  understand  it  now,"  said  Lilia ;  "  and  I  peroeivo 
how  true  is  the  text,  that  '  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  &«. 
ginning  of  wisdom.'  Fear  is  the  lowest  step,  and  I  am 
gradually,  by  means  of  Piety,  Knowledge,  Strength, 
Counsel  and  Understanding,  to  ascend  to  Wisdom.  And 
I  suppose  that  the  higher  gifla,  although  received  at  the 
■ame  time  with  those  subordinate,  lie  dormant  longer, 
•nd  require  greater  efforts  of  the  will  and  afl^tions  to  b« 
soused  and  embraced.      However,  as  Fortitude  ai4 


110 


BOm   AMD  TBI   ABBIT. 


Strength  are  to  be  given  me,  I  will  never  be  a  lazy  cow 
ard ;  but  will  fight  my  way,  like  a  good  soldier,  up  to 
Wisdom,  when  1  suppose  I  may  find  delightful  repose 
and  peace  in  the  union  of  Love  and  Intellect." 

"  That  must  be,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison,  "  exactly  aO' 
cording  to  the  good  pleasure  of  God :  for,  although  by 
fiiithfiilly  preserving  the  grace  of  Wisdom  given  you  in 
Confirmation,  you  will  find  her  at  length  developeto  the 
fiill  extent  of  the  gift  bestowed,  and  so  far  will  enjoy  that 
peace  and  repose  of  soul  which  you  desire ;  yet  you  may 
have  to  hold  this  treasure,  as  it  were,  by  the  sword,  and 
may  have  to  fight  the  good  spiritual  combat  to  the  very 
last  against  your  subtle  and  invisible  enemies.  But  she 
herself  will  help  you,  '  for  Wisdom  is  more  active  than 
all  active  things,  and  reacheth  everywhere  by  reason  of 
her  purity  :'  for  she  is  a  vapour  of  the  power  of  Grod, 
and  a  certain,  pure  emanation  of  the  glory  of  the  Al- 
mighty." 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful !"  cried  Lilia.  "  This  is  the  voice 
of  inspiration." 

**  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Terrison;  "  I  quote  from  the  Book  of 
Wisdom,  and  Solomon  continues,  '  She  is  the  brightness 
of  eternal  light,  and  the  unspotted  mirror  of  God's  ma 
jesty,  and  the  image  of  His  goodness.'  And,  having  be* 
gun  thus  to  quote  from  inspiration,  I  will  return  no  more 
at  this  time  to  my  own  mode  of  speech,  but  will  pray  for 
you  thus :" — and  as  he  rose  from  his  chair  Lilia  sank  on 
her  kiioes, — "  God  of  our  Fathers !  Grod  of  Mercy !  sand 
thy  Wibdora  out  of  thy  holy  Heaven,  and  from  the 
throne  of  thy  majesty,  that  she  may  be  with  this  thy 
handmf-  ^. ;  and  may  labour  with  her  that  abe  may  know 
vhat  is  acceptable -to  Thee." 


tsetses* 


BOm  AHD  THK  ABBl'^ 


111 


The  n»t  conversation  which  toolc  place  between  Mr. 
rerriaon  and  Lilia  was  after  she  had  approached  the  tri« 
bunal  of  Penance,  in  immediate  preparation  for  the  sa 
crament  of  Confirmation. 

"  You  n«v0r  shall  find  matter  for  Absolution,  Reverend 
Sir,"  said  she,  "  for  if  I  have  never  chosen  or  consented 
to  evil  since  my  Baptism,  of  course  I  shall  never  do  so 
•Aer  I  am  confirmed  in  Prudence,  Justice,  Fortitude, 
Temperance,  and  am  ascending  those  spiritual  ateps  up 
to  Wisdom." 

**  But  you  must  not  talk  to  me  in  this  way  out  of  Con* 
fession,"  replied  he.  "  It  is  very  childish ;  and  this  is  the 
last  time  I  can  ever  permit  such  indiscretion.  You  never 
remark  that  Sister  Agnes  boasts  in  this  way,  or  Lucy." 

"Is  this  boasting?"  said  Lilia.  "I  thought  I  was 
merely  making  good  resolutions.  All  these  sacramental 
graces  are  from  God." 

"  Every  grace,  every  gift  is  from  God,"  said  Mr.  Ter- 
rison;  "but  our  fr«e-wiU,  although  an  original  grant 
from  God,  is  our  birthright :  consequently,  our  faithlbl 
correspondence  to  His  Grace — our  avoidance  and  rejeo- 
ticm  of  evil— our  choice  of  good — is  rucoguiwd  as  meri« 
torious  by  God,  and  rewarded  by  Him  as  such.  When, 
fiirthermore,  God  wills  to  rewutl  with  greater  glory  a 
&ithful  soul.  He  sends  such  afffictions  aad  persecutions 
as  shall  render  that  choice  heroic  By  persecutions,  f 
include  temptations,  which  are  the  greatest  means  by . 
which  the  choice  of  good  is  made  heroic.  Such  choice 
was  made  by  the  Martyrs,  Confessors,  and  Virgins  of  the 
Giurdi,  who  never  boasted,  but  gave  all  the  lumour 
Vraiae,  and  gl  )ry  to  God." 


'^■Wr'  V.rtii-'  -fc**^  I- 


i      i 


112 


XOm  ARD  TBI  ABBST. 


They  had  received  the  gifbs  of  Prudence  and  Humi- 
lity," said  Lilia;  "and  when  I  shall  possess  those  Vir* 
tucs,  1  shall  boast  no  more." 

The  sacrament  of  Confirmation  was  administered  to 
Lilia  on  the  following  moniing,  in  the  private  chapel  of 
Cardinal  Fransone,  his  Eminence  being  a  Binhop,  and 
general  protector  of  the  English  in  Rome.  Lilia  offered 
her  blest  candle  to  the  Altar,  according  to  Koman  cus* 
torn,  and  round  her  brow  was  bound  a  white  ribbon,  to 
cover  the  Sacred  Chrism,  which  remained  as  a  trium- 
phant garland  all  that  day.  The  mother  of  our  Eutflish 
Cardinal — fit  mother  for  such  a  son^ — was  Lilia's  godnio> 
(her ;  and  her  faithful  friend  and  director  Mr.  Terrison 
was  the  Assistant  Priest  at  the  Altar.  At  her  Baptism 
•he  had  received  the  sacred  name  of  "  Mary,"  and  now, 
without  any  choice,  and  in  compliance  solely  with  tho 
wishes  of  her  Religious  relative  and  Mr.  Terrison,  she 
received  in  addition  the  name  of  "  Cecilia." 

In  full  appreciation  of  all  she  was  to  obtain,  had  Lili« 
knelt  to  receive  the  matter  and  form  of  that  august  rite, 
and  now  arose  confirmed  in  strength — silent — full  of  awe 

•conversing  with  her  own  soul — giving  welcome  to  all 
the  rich  treasures  she  had  received,  and  fiivoured  on  that 
blest  day  with  all  the  joy  that  an  innocent  soul  could 
know,  in  receiving  with  aU  His  gifts,  the  Paraclete — tti9 
Comforter — the  promised  Spirit  of  the  Father — ^who  waa 
(0  teach  her,  a  "  little  one,"  to  know  and  understand,  to 
love  and  enjoy  Himself— coequal,  co-eternal  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son  in  the  Unity  of  the  Trinity— God 
tdonble  for  ever. 


iMNn  AW  nw 


Its 


CHAPTER  XL 

To  manly  rhw  m  Ctraign  •  hew  • 
To  boait  the  whnl«  of  Ilom*  wa  kbuw   ' 
li  nol  (he  humble  rilKrim'i  ;>art. 
Who  hwi*  h*r(irM«r«  ia  hit  hcut 

Thb  Reverend  Mr.  Terriaon  had  now  to  proceed  to  hit 
ultimate  destination,  wbiish  was  Naples ;  and  bis  return 
being  uncertain,  our  (bur  English  friends,  by  the  desini 
of  their  Cardinal  Protector,  became  the  P«nitmts  of  tha 
English  Father  of  the  Sodety  of  Jchus,  whose  principal 
duirch,  dedicated  to  that  holy  Name,  waa  dote  to  th« 
Palazso  which  had  became  their  home. 

The  two  principal  floors  of  .his  palace  had  be<m 
engaged  for  Lord  Elverton  and  his  suite ;  and  our  two 
Religious,  with  their  young  companions  and  ao  elderly 
Italian  maid,  were  on  the  top  floor,  in  great  quiet,  good 
air,  and  the  already  mentioned  advantage  of  a  private 
staircase  to  the  ground  floor,  where  they  had  their  sepa> 
rate  door  of  entrance.  Sister  Agnes  and  Lucy  wora 
actively  employed  during  several  days  in  arranging  Ui» 
suite  of  rooms  in  as  great  monastic  order  as  possible : 
the  former  lamenting  that  they  had  to  go  out  for  every 
^iritual  blessing,  and  the  latter  deeming  that  it  would 
be  high  time  to  shut  up  when  they  Iwd  seen  all  the  holy 
wonders  of  Rome.  Lilia,  who,  after  ascertaining  1^1 
bei  little  harp  and  portfolios  had  been  good  traveller^ 
Vas  Assisting  in  the  arrangements,  agreed  with  Lucy. 


ittkit. 


I 


114 


BOm  Ain>  TBI  ABBIT. 


♦•Why,  Sister  Agnes,"  said  she,  "Rome  has  beeo 
termed  a  vast  Monastery — there  is  not  a  part  that  \um 
not  been  consecrated  by  some  sacred  remembrance." 

"  Very  true,"  replied  Sister  Agnes,  "  and  many  holy 
Saints,  women  as  well  as  men,  have  travelled  from  • 
still  greater  distance,  and  with  far  greater  fatigue  than  I, 
to  view  these  sucrcd  spots  and  relics.  I  am  very  grate- 
ful to  be  in  Rome.  I  feel  it  now,  and  shall  feel  it  still 
more  hereafter,  if,  please  God,  we  get  back  to  England, 
and  I  think  it  all  over  in  our  little  cell." 

"  To-morrow,"  8»id  Lili.i,  "  the  Princess  is  going  to 
take  us  three  to  cm  and  pray  at  several  holy  places.  I 
suppose  that  the  greatest  charm  to  us  all  will  be  the 
Coliseum,  for  that  majestic  ruin  is  the  chronicler  of 
Pagan  Rome  in  her  haughty  grandeur,  and  the  scene  of 
countless  Christian  martyrdoms.  I  have  just  been  told 
by  an  English  Benedictine  Monk,  who  is  sitting  with 
Reverend  Mother,  that  when  some  pious  visitors  to  Rome, 
hi  the  time  of  St  Gregory  the  Great,  but  before  he  was 
Pope,  asked  him  for  relics,  and  were  disappointed,  he 
only  bade  them  take  back  some  of  the  soil  of  the  Coli- 
seum,  where  they  were  then  standing :  the  Saint  stooped 
down,  and  takmg  up  the  earth  m  his  hand,  it  gave  forth 
blood  I" 

«  And  then  the  aacred  stairs,"  said  Sister  Agnes ;  *'  they 
must  be  still  more  precious !  I  am  to  walk  there  alone 
with  Reverend  Mother:  we  are  to  ascoid  them  toge- 
ther. Oh,  yes !  I  do  return  ibaaka  that,  all  unworthy  aa 
I  am.  Divine  Providenoe  permits  me  this  &vour." 

•♦  And  then,  at  the  church  oaUed  after  the  Holy  Crom 
«f  Jeruaaleiu,"  said  LUia,  "  there  *  preserved  thetifje<rf 


1-w, 


JLiLui— 


BOm  AlTD  TBI  ABmcr. 


116 


'they 


^  CVoM ;  and  a  reiy  leaned  gentleman,  a  convert,  liaa 
declared  (so  Mr.  Terriaon  aaya)  that  he  never  witnewed 
ft  relic  more  distinctly  conveying  proo&  of  authenticity.** 
••  Why  BO?"  inquired  Lucy. 

"  Because,"  continued  Lilia,  "the  title  of  the  Croaa 
was,  you  know,  written  by  the  Jews  in  Greek,  in  Utin, 
Mid  in  Hebrew.  The  Hebrew  they  have  written  cor. 
rectly,  as  might  be  expected ;  they  have  even  written 
the  Greek  correctly,  having  had  more  intercourse  with 
the  Greeks;  but  the  Latin  they  have  written  like  an 
Eastern  language,  from  right  to  left,  or,  as  you  would 
»y,  they  have  written  it  backwards.  TTiis  is  precisely 
what  Jews  in  those  days  would  have  done,  but  which 
would  never  have  occurred  to  modem  &bricators  of  a 
relic  And,  oh !  at  that  church  there  is  also  one  of  the 
Nails  of  the  Crucifixion.— But  what  is  the  matter.  Sister 
Agnes  ?"  for  the  young  Religious,  who  was  generally 
n»y,  had  turned  pale  as  death. 

"  Oh  I"  cried  she,  "  how  can  our  eyes  be  pure  enough 
to  contemplate  such  relics  of  His  sufTeringsr 
"  But  you  will  like  to  go,  surely.  Sister  Agnes  ?" 
*•  Yes— alone  with  Reverend  Mother." 
•*  But  may  /not  come  7"  said  Lilia. 
«  And  ir  said  Lucy. 

*♦  If  we  all  go  together,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  "  1  nupa 
you  will  not  speak  of  learned  and  reasonable  motives  foe 
believing  what  I  would  lay  down  my  life  to  defend, 
lliese  details  beforehand  are  not  amiss;  but  while  we 
•re  viewing  these  most  sacrod  relics,  which  of  course 
we  diall  do  aa  our  knees,  we  ought  to  be  in  holy  si. 
knee— in  awe— in  thanksgiving,  and  in  the  great«st 
sympathy  with  His  agony  and  dereliction  endured  for 


lie 


BOMK   AKO  THB   Ann, 


us!"  Here  Sibtcr  Agues  dosed  ber  ey««,  and  Lilia, 
fearing  she  was  about  to  .ikiut,  and  berseif  filiod  with  aw* 
and  compum-tion,  sank  on  her  knees  beside  ber. 

When  the  young  Religious  revived,  she  tinnd  Lilia 
alone  with  her,  and  said,  "  Now  I  must  work  bard  at 
these  curtains — tbey  would  have  been  finished  bad  1 
not  tiilked." 

"  But  we  were  speaking  of  very  holy  things,"  pleaded 
Lilia. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  rejoined  Suter  Agnes ;  "  but  I  was  not 
desired  to  speak  of  them,  and  1  waa  desired  to  finish  tha 
curtains." 

"  Then  I  wUl  help  you,"  cried  Ulia,  «  and  I  will  b« 
silent." 

She  kept  her  promise,  and  the  task  was  just  concluded 
when  Lucy  returned  to  fetch  them  both  to  the  reoeptioo- 
room,  to  receive  the  blessing  of  the  venerable  Canonioo 
2<acheria.  He  was  accompanied  by  the  kind  and  mild 
Associate  Cunun  wuom  they  had  seen  with  Mr.  Terrison 
at  St.  Peter's,  and  with  whom,  from  his  friendship  for 

the  Princess  V ,  they  became  eventually  united  in 

ties  of  religious  connection.  Dom  Pietro  G.  doocribed 
her  Excellency  as  one  of  whom  the  world  was  not  wor- 
thy, and  further  related  her  history  thus : — 

•  "  The  Princess  Z^neide  V ,  illustrious  both  by 

birth  and  marriage,  was  the  youngest  of  the  two  daughters 

of  Prince  B of  the  Kussion  Empire,  a  man  of  high 

renown  and  still  more  exalted  virtues.  At  the  age  of 
two4md-twenty,  Princess  Z6n^ide  was  niarried  to  her 

late  husband  Prince  V ',  cousin  to  the  sucveasive  Em- 

I  of  Russia,  and  high  iu  the  favour  of  the  then  reifn- 

•  Ths  MIowiiw  U  •  biognphlMl 


<s>d  wink  mw 
ter. 

tumid  Lilia 
Drk  hard  at 
ilMd  Iwd  1 

[8,"  pleaded 

It  I  waa  not 

ofinisk  tin 

d  I  wUl  b* 

i  concluded 
» reoeptioQ. 
e  CanoDioo 
1  and  mild 
r.  Terrison 
indship  for 
'  united  in 
.  dcooribed 
a  not  wor> 

M  both  by 
>  daugbtera 
tan  of  high 
the  age  of 
ied  to  her 
Msive  Em. 
then  rei^ 


mmm  am  nn  Awtmr, 


nr 


hg  mnnarcb,  Alexander,  under  whom  he  held  poata  at 
confidence  at  the  Imperial  Court.  Thin  favour  continued 
nndor  Michael  and  Nicholaa,  and  wua  ahared  with  hia 
conaort  the  Princeaa,  who  waa  both  the  beauty  and  the 
wit  of  the  court  until,  by  the  grace  of  God,  she  renounced 
the  Greek  schism  under  the  present  Emperor  Nicholaa, 
and  they  came  to  Rome,  where  her  heroic  example 
waa  followed  by  the  Prince  her  husband,  wid  by  her 
Hist«r  the  Princess  Mary ;  who,  since  the  death  of  har 

husband.  Count  W ,  resides  with  her.    Owuig  to  the 

fiimily  connection,  the  indignant  Autocrut  did  not  confis- 
cate the  estates,  but,  after  the  death  of  the  Prince,  de> 
prived  the  widow  of  the  personal  administration  of  them ; 
it.d  for  a  time  they  were  ill-managed,  and  the  revenue 
*iid  not  suflke  to  her  immense  charities.  Therefore,  for 
the  Church  and  the  poor,  she  has  become  poor :  her  mag' 
Rtikent  jewels,  her  costly  plate,  carriages,  pictures, 
ahawla,  dresses — all  have  been  sent  before  her  to  the 
Treasure  House,  where  the  moth  doth  not  corrupt,  nor 
thieves  break  through  and  steal.    In  the  Princess  Z^nd- 

ide  V Rome  has  seen  the  equal  to  her  saintlicft 

matrons — she  has  beheld  the  'widow  indeed,'  tne  wk 
dow  of  the  early  Chureh." 

**  And  I  am  told,"  said  Dom  Zocheria,  "  that  her  pecu- 
tiiary  affiurs  are  being  at  length  completely  adjusted." 

''Yes,*'  replied  the  Reverend  narrator,  "and  in  a 
Biode  as  consolhig  to  the  heart,  as  beneficial  to  the 
purse  of  the  Princess !  She  has  found  duty  and  gene- 
rarity,  aa  she  might  expect,  from  the  only  diild  and  heir 
if  her  noble  qualitaea— but  it  is  not  of  Prince  Alexander 
^aow  speak.    Maoy  years  ago,  when  tJie  late  Priaoeaai 


I 


I 


i 


lit 


BOm   AKD  TBI    ABBXr. 


ri 


heruelf  were  traveJing,  they,  found  a  little  Englinh  boy, 
whose  father  had  just  died,  at  the  inn  where  ihey  and 
their  suite  had  stopped  for  the  night :  no  letters  or  [«> 
pcrs  indicated  the  destination  of  the  deceased ;  the  child, 
but  eight  years  old,  knew  nothing  of  his  father's  inten* 
tions :  the  money  found  was  but  scanty.  Struck  with 
the  grief  and  forloni  condition  of  the  little  stranger,  the 
Princess  obtained  permission  to  adopt  him,  and  from 
that  hour  he  became  the  companion  of  Prince  Alex 
wider,  in  both  studies  and  recreation.  Twenty  years 
after,  the  young  Chevalier  Vladcmir,  as  he  had 
become,  was  enabled  to  prove  his  gratitude.  lie  de 
parted  from  Rome,  where,  like  his  adopted  mother,  he 
hid  become  a  Catholic,  and  fixed  himself  on  her  estates, 
to  devote  himself  entirely  to  the  restoration  of  the  in* 
come  into  its  proper  channel.  Since  the  two  years  the 
chevalier  has  been  there,"  continued  Dom  Pietro,  "  his 
talent  for  accounts,  and  his  firm  though  mild  conduct, 
have  nearly  accomplished  the  desired  end.  Already  ar« 
the  rents  arriving  regularly,  and  we  are  led  to  hope  that 
another  year  will  place  our  illustrious  friend  out  of  all 
embarrassments.  I  have  had  double  pleasure  in  recount- 
ing  this  last  little  history,  "added  he,  "because  the 
young  Knight  has  done  honour  to  his  English  parentage 
and  birth." 

"  I  will  translate  all  this  for  you.  Sister  Agnes,"  said 
Lilia  in  a  low  voice,  "  for  it  is  very  interesting  and  in* 
structive,  and  I  think  I  have  understood  it  alL" 

When  the  two  Ecclesiastics  had  departed,  it  was  time 
for  our  four  friends  to  prepare  for  their  first  walk  to  tne 
Benediction,  in  the  little  church  to  which  b  attached  tfaa 


MMi 


ROm   AHD  TBI   ABBIT. 


11» 


J  Eijgli«h  boy, 
here  ihey  and 
letters  ur  pa> 
led ;  the  child, 
father's  tnteri« 
Struck  with 

stranger,  the 
lim,  and  frunt 
Prince  Alex 
rwenty  years 

as  he  had 
ude.  lie  de 
id  mother,  he 
n  her  estates, 
ion  of  the  in< 
wo  years  the 

Pietro,  "  hia 
nild  conduct, 

Already  are 
[  to  hope  that 
nd  out  of  all 
re  in  recourit- 
'  because  the 
sh  parentage 

Agnes,"  said 

sting  and  m. 

11." 

!,  it  was  time 

t  walk  to  tne 

attached  tJia 


Convent  of  the  Pei^wtual  Adoration,  on  the  Quiritial. 
This  afterwards  became  their  daily  pilgrimage,  until  they 
kept  enclosure.  Often  as  they  had  assisted  and  borne 
part  in  the  holy  function  of  the  Benediction,  it  was  the 
first  time  that  either  of  them  had  witnessed  the  pecu- 
liarly touching  and  solemn  circumstances  attending  that 
service  in  the  little  church  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen.  The 
three  younger  pilgrims  received  each  the  edification  and 
holy  consolation  adapted  to  their  respective  characters 
and  necessities.  Sister  Agnes  ardently  supplicated  that 
the  time  might  come  when  she  might  be  one  amidst  a 
mmilar  Sisterhood  of  hidden  adorers,  whose  floating 
strains  vibrated  in  her  heart ;  and  Lilia,  kneeling  in  de- 
lighted wonderment  at  the  joy  and  triumph  around  the 
altar,  and  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  rest  of  the  church, 
was  also  surprised  and  touched  by  the  union  still  held 
between  the  Recluses  and  the  congregation,  amongst 
whom  might  perchance  be  found  former  friends,  relations, 
oonfessors,  joining  in  the  chorus  of  the  hymns.  Thie 
would  have  given  the  usual  consolation  of  united  devo* 
tion  had  the  Nuns  been  visible,  or  notoriously  accessible 
at  all  times ;  but  ihr  deeper  the  tender  and  respectfiil 
emotion  with  which  were  heard  voices  that  had  ceased 
toward!)  man. 

Aiid  what  were  the  feelings  of  the  Pilgrim  Geraldine 
as  she  prostrated  in  adoration  during  the  sacred  function  1 
What  the  aspirations  of  love,  thanksgiving,  petition, 
reparation,  which  darted  upwards  like  flakes  of  fire  from 
her  glowing  heart !  What  the  grace  to  have  kindled  that 
are  of  devotiou  towards  the  Sacramental  Presence,  first 
given  with  impulse  irrepressible,  when,  after  pronouncing 


ji^mmMiiiMm^Mi'M^,^  -  sv.,  ,<«,-..■ 


4 ;.   :i 


ISO 


ROMC   ARfi  TBI   ARMEf. 


hfT  Vnws  as  a  Religions,  six  jesrs  before,  she  had  laid 
I>rostrate  during  the  glorious  Te  Deum !  Then  had  she 
freely  followed  the  inspiration  given,  and  had  fervently 
implored  that  in  whatever  Ckmvent  she  might  end  her 
days,  the  hidden  Presence  of  her  Spouse  might  be  perpe- 
tually adored.  And  when,  in  obedience,  she  had  aftcN 
wards  resigned  that  inspiration  and  that  hope,  the  vision 
of  die  Sacramental  Mysteries  wiUiin  her  cell,  continuing 
day  and  night,  with  changes  condescending  to  assure  her 
confidence,  proved  what  has  often  been  affirmed,  that  in 
the  solemn  time  of  prostration,  having  vowed  to  be  His 
for  ever,  what  God  then  inspires  He  will  hereafter  grant 
Oh !  Sister  Spouses  in  the  Lord,  tUs  is  most  true.  It  in 
A  precious  time  then  for  the  young  Nun  !  Many,  doubt> 
less,  are  the  written  and  sealed  petitions  placed  by  her 
Sister  Novices  beneath  the  death-pall ;  i»nd  for  their  ne- 
eessities  let  her  pray  fervently ;  but  the  chief  cry  of  her 
heart  must  be  for  her  own  spiritual  progress  and  desires. 
Yes,  young  Bride !  yield  generously  to  the  inspirationa 
given  thee.  Ask  great  things,  for  thou  art  wedded  to  a 
great  King !  Thou  art  the  spouse  of  Him  whom  Angels 
adore! 

Our  two  Religious  and  their  companions  returned  homer 
over  the  Piazza  di  Monte  Cavallo,  passing  the  great  en> 
trance  of  the  Papal  Palace,  whence  is  seen  to  such  solenm 
cflbct  the  dty  below,  cast  in  shadow  at  that  hour  with  the 
distant  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  distinctly  majestic  against 
the  still  glowing  sky.  Lilia  remained  in  t<^l  silence — a 
■ilence  so  unusual  to  her  when  any  new  effect  of  scenery 
waa  before  her,  that  her  Religious  Guardian  hoped  an  im- 
preaakm  aa  deep  as  pleaaing  had  been  {nroduoed  by  tki 


WSfftt 


mi«M 


"n 


he  had  laid 
len  had  she 
d  fervently 
;ht  end  hear 
It  be  perpc^ 
e  had  after* 
,  the  TisioQ 
continuing 
assure  her 
led,  that  in 
i  to  be  His 
After  grant 
true.  It  ill 
any,  doubt- 
teed  by  her 
i)r  their  ne- 
r  cry  of  her 
uid  desires, 
inspirations 
redded  to  • 
lom  Angels 

limed  homef 
le  great  en< 
luch  solemn 
lur  with  the 
stio  against 
I  silence — a 
)  of  scenery 
aped  aninv 
loedby  thf 


nOHE    AND  TBX   ABBEY. 


Ml 


Auction  of  the  Benediction,  lliis  she  had  the  more  at 
heart,  as  Lilia,  notwithstanding  the  awe  and  delight  with 
which  she  received  the  most  Holy  Communion,  had  never 
seemed  to  respond  to  the  regrets  of  Sister  Agnes  and 
Lucy  at  being  no  longer  under  the  same  roof  with  the 
Adorable  Mysteries. 

Great,  therefore,  was  the  consolation  of  the  Religious, 
when,  about  an  hour  after  their  return  home,  being  then 
engaged  in  writing,  she  distinguished,  from  the  room  next 
to  her  own,  the  exact  air  and  words  of  the  principal  hymn 
aung  that  evening  at  Monte  Cavallo,  and  now  given  forth 
ita  Lilia's  own  rich  and  liquid  tcmes,  with  the  touching 
Expression  of  one  who  could  not  but  feel  the  aspirations 
uttered.  Still,  the  same  genius  which  had  enabled  her  so 
immediately  to  retam  and  imitate  the  strain,  might  have 
led  Iter  to  seize  even  the  expression,  especially  as  she  hod 
kept  the  book  lent  her  in  the  diurch,  in  vrhich  the  words 
•re  Ibund  thus : — 

▼i  Bdoio  ogni  noncato 

O  vlTO  Pan  del  CM,  gtu  g»et>Wt». 

OmA,  Caor  di  Maria, 

Vi  prego  a  banadir  I'aninuk  mia. 

A  vol  ilono  il  mio  eaore, 

SaaUnUao  Otwu,  mio  Baliratora. 

Hie  Religious,  as  she  continued  to  listen,  would  hav* 
derived  still  greater  hope  in  tLe  true  feeling  of  the  young 
Tocalist,  had  she  been  aware  thai.  Lilia  did  not  in  general 
abig  with  expression,  and  that  the  usual  charm  to  her 
hearers  had  been  fit>m  a  sucoe^on  of  perfect  sounds 
issuing  from  a  young  and  lovely  &De,  Seven  years  had 
passed  since  Lilia  had  joined  in  the  chaunto  and  littoiea 
~vt  the  private  chapel  at  the  Manor  Hall,  aid  the  clear 

e 


f 


! 


I'.i 


i 


i  J  ir- 


I.  i 


tst 


BOMS  AND  TBI  ABBIT. 


childish  voice  had  developed  m  had  then  been  expected 
The  family  voice  of  the  Sinclairs,  the  voice  which  so  re 
sembled  that  of  the  departed  mother  of  the  hearer,  «ud 
aroused  so  many  buried  emotions,  began  now  to  subdue 
with  feelings  too  human  the  heart  of  the  Religious }  but 
those  were  repressed  and  conquered,  and  again  she 
prayed  that  the  innocent  Lilia  might  indeed  "  love  and 
adore,"  as  3he  was  then  protesting  to  do,  the  Divine 
Author  of  all  her  many  gifts  of  nature  and  of  grace. 

The  Religious  then  returned  to  her  writing,  v/hich  was 
first  a  plan  of  their  present  daily  and  weekly  duties,  to 
he  submitted  to  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Acton,  at  her  next 
Audience ;  and  then  the  more  laborious  work  of  trans- 
mitting to  paper,  for  his  approval,  those  ideas  which, 
accumulating  during  many  years,  she  had  confided  in 
part  to  his  Eminence,  even  in  their  first  interview,  and 
had  been  desired  to  state  in  writing,  the  Cardinal  adding, 
"  And  then,  when  the  spiritual  aflairs  are  arranged,  we 
will  speak  of  the  temporals." 

The  simple  plan  of  their  day  was  soon  finished — the 
early  hours  were  passed  in  the  church  of  the  Jesuit 
Fathers,  near  their  home ;  the  last  hour,  before  the  Ave 
Maria,  was  in  the  church  of  the  Perpetual  Adoration  on 
the  Quirinal ;  the  intermediate  hours  were  devoted  to 
Mtudy,  needle-work,  lectures,  and  the  mid-day  pr&yers. 
Silence  was  re-established,  but  they  had  their  recreation, 
which  now  consisted,  generally  speaking,  of  comments  <»i 
thechurdies  and  other  sacred  spots,  to  which  they  walked 
every  morning  directly  after  breakfitst,  being  abient  from 
the  house  an  hour.  On  Thursdays,  the  kind  Prinoffls,  in 
penoD  or  by  deputy,  conveyed  them  to  thoee  ihardMe 


rtk 


BOm  AMD  TBI  ABBXT. 


128 


lliat  were  Iwyond  their  walk :  and  this  was  their  lue 
during  the  autuiuii  and  winter  which  succeeded  their 
arrival  in  Rome. 

Lord  Elverton  and  suite  arrived  not  till  the  springy 
and  strangers  occupied  the  two  lower  floors,  with  the 
exception  of  some  rooms  that  were  taken  by  Priests 
known  to  the  Religious.     This   house  belonged  to  a 
Religious  Congregation,  but  had  been  rented  hy  a  pioua 
Frenchman,  for  many  years  resident  in  Rome,  who, 
having  seen  with  concern  the  expense  and  secular  habits 
forced  on  foreign  Priests,  and  even  Bishops,  in  the  holy 
city,  unless  they  could  be  lodged  in  Monasteries,  was 
hispired  to  undertake  the  conduct  of  a  "  Pilgrim-House," 
and  had  fixed  on  this  palace  in  which  to  commence  his 
pious  undertaking.    Great  was  the  encouragement  given 
him,  and  during  that  autumn  and  winter  the  house  was 
completely  filled  with  Ecclesiastics.    The  cautious  pro- 
jector  now  opened  another  wing  of  the  palace,  made  a 
diflTerent  disposition  of  the  rooms,  and  the  Princesses,  with 
their  chaplain,  attendant  ladies,  and  domestics,  occupied 
a  suite  of  rooms  within  the  palace,  notwithstanding  the 
•xpected  arrival  of  "  Milor  Inglese." 

"I  am  surprised,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  "to  find  that 
»ny  secular  persons  are  admitted  to  this  pious  Pilgrim- 
House  ;  for  when  we  were  at  Leghorn,  Father  Giomi 
sr-med  to  think  it  required  such  interest  and  recommen- 
dation  to  be  received,  and  took  such  pains  to  specify  who 
we  were,  that  we  might  be  immediately  accommodated, 
Staying  that  we  had  done  well  to  arrive  so  early  in  the 
■utumn." 
"I  had  understood  so,  likewise,"  nid  hor  Religiottg 


.4i,?iK»vi»»K.H\*-.«»y-,Y:,>-, 


i 


It4 


BOm   Aim  TBB   ABBir. 


u 


fc 


Bister ;  **  and  was  further  confirmed  in  that  behef  by  our 
Cnrduial,  who,  in  forbidding  me  to  seek  rooms  in  any 
Ck>nvent,  bade  me  l>e  satisfied  to  be  here,  as  combining 
•verything  I  need  desire." 

"  llien,  perhaps,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  "  it  is  during  the 
first  difficulties  only  that  secular  men  are  to  be  ac!mitted , 
and  that  next  year  we  shall  have  only  the  Princesses  and 
their  ladies,  besides  the  Ecclesiastics." 

"  The  danger,  I  apprehend,  is  this,"  said  the  elder  Re> 
ItgiouB :  "  the  pious  and  respectable  man  who  conducts 
this  Pilgrim-House  was  formerly  the  master  of  an  hotel, 
and  former  habits  are  difficult  to  throw  otC  Bishops  and 
Ecclesiastics  are  his  diief  object,  and  he  is  also  much 
gratified  that  Religious  Women  have  been  placed  here  by 
their  Superiors ;  but  if  he  now,  fVom  a  motive  of  worldly 
prudence,  admits  secular  &milies,  will  it  not  be  extremely 
difficult  afterwards  to  forbid  their  entrance  t    We  shall 


I" 


"  Yes,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  *'  we  shall  stfe." 
Tliis  lltde  interchange  of  doubts  took  place  just  before 
Christmas,  and  was  interrupted  by  a  tap  at  the  door. 
It  was  opened  to  admit  the  Princess,  who  informed  them 
with  joy  that  the  room  at  the  top  of  the  bouse,  to  which 
our  Religious  had  to  ascend  but  a  few  steps,  had  been 
visited  by  the  Cardinal-Vicar ;  that  he  had  approved  ot 
it  for  a  diapel,  and  had  permitted  that  Mass  and  Holy 
Communion  should  take  place  there  on  the  approaching 
night  of  Oiristmas.  Heir  previous  misgivings  made 
his  announcement  doubly  oonsolhg  to  the  Religious 
Bisters,  and  this  great  privilege  remained  to  the  chapel 
whenever  the  Princesses  were  firoaexA, 


belief  by  our 
Doms  in  any 
\a  combining 

Is  during  the 
)e  admitted , 
rincesaea  and 

he  elder  Re* 
vho  oonducta 
r  of  an  hotel, 
Bishopa  and 
B  also  much 
laced  here  by 
'0  of  worldly 
be  extremely 
t    We  ahaU 


»JU8tb8ibT« 

at  the  door, 
formed  them 
ise,  to  which 
ps,  had  been 
approved  ol 
SB  and  Holy 
approaching 
ivings  made 
le  Religious 
0  the  chapel 


Rom  ABO  TBI  Mttmn, 


IS* 


The  termination  of  the  year  1845  was  celebrated  in 
the  noble  and  beautiful  church  of  the  Jesuits— the  vene 
rable  Pontiff  Gr^ory  XVL  being  present,  with  the 
Suored  College  of  Cardinals,  and  the  Sanctuary  lined 
with  the  Pupils  of  the  German  College,  in  their  crimson 
cassocks,  holding,  in  addition  to  the  already  blaze  of  light, 
immense  wax  tapers.  TTie  Benediction  was  given  by  a 
Cardinal-Bishop;  then  followed  the  glorious  Te  Deum, 
in  thanksgiving  for  the  mercies  of  the  past  year. 

Hod  a  prophetic  voice  then  uttered  the  coming  eveiiti 
of  the  two  following  years,  still  greater  would  have  been 
the  awe  and  tenderness  with  which  the  Sacred  Function 
was  attended  by  all  who  valued  the  existing  state  of 
things — soon  to  be  theirs  no  more ;  while  others,  even 
then,  would  have  been  raised  above  the  mysterious  events 
of  this  life,  and  have  felt  with  a  venerable  English  Ecda- 
■iastio  present,  who  afterwards  exclaimed,  '^  Ah !  when 
I  witnessed  that  sight,  I  mentally  beheld  the  time  when, 
after  the  final  judgment,  all  on  the  right  hand  of  th« 
Judge  will  togedier  burst  forth,  as  with  one  voice,  singii^ 
"  T«  I>aaiii  loudami «.    Te  Dominum  /»»«i<stfinnr  V* 


.  i».prt-ijfl.iT,.-..-».*— t.,.. 


T=s^ 


V'> 


lae 


BOm  ABD  THB  ABUT. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

We  ehranieie  the  Iradal  Uma, 

Of  barnn  bold,  umI  kaichlhoort  gtf, 
Ob  England'!  AeMi,  in  yonthful  prime, 

from  NonMB  blood,  ae  beat  we  nay. 

A  MORI  sultry  day  oould  waroely  have  been  known  io 
•ny  olime,  than  the  one  following  the  return  of  young 
Arthur  de  Gr^y  to  the  Roman  College.  It  was  a  few 
days  before  the  Feast  of  the  Ascension,  and,  although 
only  the  latter  end  of  May,  the  English  were  escaping 
from  the  city  to  the  villas  in  the  environs,  and  the  Ro- 
mans were  commencing  their  mid-day  repose. 

During  the  winter  and  early  spring,  the  young  Count 
had  been  at  the  Jesuits'  College  at  Obamberry,  to  be 
nearer  the  Law  Courts,  in  which  his  l^al  friends  were 
rescuing  for  him  the  scanty  remains  of  a  still  disputed 
property.  During  those  months,  the  Jesuit  Professor  a,*. 
the  Roman  College,  whom  Lady  de  Grey  had  been  ad- 
vised to  consult,  corresponded  with  Count  Arthur ;  and 
now,  on  his  arrival  in  Rome,  directed  him  to  pay  his  re 
spects,  with  an  elder  student,  to  the  consecrated  widow, 
who  destined  him  to  inherit  the  property  she  was  alK>u) 
to  resign.  The  two  students  had  been  directed  to  the 
pious  Locanda,  and  advised  to  inquire  of  the  porter  (>n 
Uie  first  floor  the  means  of  access  to  the  reception-room 
of  the  Religious  Ladies.  Accordingly  they  besieged  the 
great  door  of  tJie  first  floor,  and,  by  dint  of  ringing,  at 


mm 


a  known  io 
n  of  young 
'  was  a  few 
id,  although 
re  escaping 
uid  the  Bo- 

i. 

oung  Count 
lerry,  to  be 
nends  were 
ill  disputed 
Professor  a,*. 
id  been  ad- 
.rthur;  and 

pay  his  re 
ited  widow, 
)  was  alK>u^ 
«ted  to  the 
B  porter  (»n 
$ption-roou 
tesieged  the 

ringing,  at 


lOia  AHD  TBB  ABUT. 


HI 


length  gained  entrance,  thou|^  the  hand  and  arm  that 
admitted  them  was  ooatless,  and  hastily  drawn  behind  a 
high  screen  in  the  first  ante-room.  Arthur,  however, 
eompellod  the  sleepy  possessor  to  receive  his  card,  and 
obtained  a  promise  to  take  it  up  stairs  to  the  portress  on 
the  top  floor.  The  young  visitors  were  also  requested 
with  much  civility,  as  the  porter  awoke  to  a  full  con- 
aciousness  of  kis  duty,  to  walk  into  the  inner  and  vacant 
rooms,  and  there  await  his  return.  The  two  friends 
dierefore  proceeded  through  several  rooms,  looking  at 
the  pendant  pictures,  till,  at  the  door  of  the  large  recep- 
tion-room, hearing  some  movement  within,  they  stopped, 
and  the  elder  student  said,  "  I  think  we  had  better  not 
venture  further." 

At  this  instant,  "  Favorisca !  Favorisca!"*  was  voci. 
ferated  in  the  shrillest  tones  from  the  room  in  question, 
and  accordingly  they  entered ;  but  were  surprised  to  find 
BO  one  in  the  room  save  a  beautiful  little  girl,  with  as 
rare  a  specimen  of  beauty  in  a  pet  eastern  bird  perched 
CD  her  hand. 

"We  have  no  business  here,"  whispered  Arthur  to  his 
firiend,  for  the  young  beauty,  after  repressing  a  joyous 
laugb  at  their  first  entrance,  was  eyeing  them  with  timid 
displeasure.  Considering,  however,  that  it  would  be 
better  to  account  for  their  intrusion,  he  said,  "  Gui  you 
tell  me,  Afadcmoiselle,  if  there  be  any  Religious  Ladies 
in  this  h^use  1" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  child;  "my  own  Reverend  Sister 
lives  here,  with  another  Nun,  and  some  more  bdies." 

•  Efoivalurt  to  "  PImm  to  walk  Is." 


IM 


BOm   AMD   TUI    ABBKT. 


i  ( 


ly 


**  Sister !"  repeated  Arthur,  thinking  of  the  gr«>%l  dU» 
parity  of  age  between  the  Religious  to  whom  hitt  visit 
was  intended,  and  the  young  creature  before  him,  whose 
age  oould  not  exceed  nine  or  ten  years ;  "  there  must  he 
some  mistalce.  May  I  venture  the  request  to  know  to 
whom  I  am  speaking  1    May  I  hear  your  own  name  T' 

"  I  am,"  said  she,  standing  still  more  erect,  "  the  Hon- 
ourable Letitia  Carrington;  and  when  Papa  goes  to 
Heaven,  my  brother  Ferdinand  will  be  Lord  Elverton." 

"  He  will  take  good  care,  then,  to  pray  his  Father 
soon  out  of  Purgatory,"  said  ArUmr,  smiling ;  but  he  re- 
pented of  his  levity,  when  he  observed  that  the  little  girl 
looked  puzzled  and  >ifended. 

At  length  she  said,  "And  pray, Sir,  who  are  you?  to 
come  into  our  rooms  asking  questions." 

**  I  am  honoured  by  the  kind  friendship  of  your  Rev»> 
rend  Sister,"  replied  Arthur  more  gravely ;  "  and  I  bear 
the  same  name.    I  am  the  Count  de  Grey." 

" Oh !"  cried  Letitia.  Then  after  a  pause,  "As  your 
name  is  De  Gr6y,  I  will  lend  you  Poll  to  amuse  you, 
while  I  go  up  to  my  Reverend  Sister  to  tell  her  that  you 
are  come : — ^but  you  must  not  teach  my  bird  any  bad 
words." 

"Oh,  Heaven  forbid!"  exclaimed  Arthur,  as  he 
received  die  bird,  which  immediately  cried  "Feli6a 
notte." 

"  Dear  Poll — good  Poll !"  said  Letitia,  kissing  the  pet 
•'  I  have  taught  her  that  to  surprise  Papa  ttMiight,  when 
1  shall  give  her  to  him  to  put  her  on  the  perch." 

She  now  went  to  a  side  door,  which  she  seemed  sur> 
prised  to  find  looked,  and  hesitated  for  a  few  instants  b» 


BOm  AKO  THB  AUIT. 


1S» 


fere  she  left  the  mIood  by  the  long  miite  of  ante-roomg 
and  began  to  mount  the  open  stain. 

She  had  reached  the  floor  inunediatelj  above,  when 
die  met  her  Father  conducting  her  Mother  from  her  prl> 
vate  rooms  to  the  saloon.  "  Letitia !  alone  on  thaaa 
public  stairs !"  they  both  exclaimed. 

"  What  courage !"  said  the  Mother. 

"What  disobedience  I"  said  the  Father:  and  thmi 
continued,  "  la  this  the  way,  Letitia  Carrington,  you  ii»> 
tend  to  illustrate  the  character  of  dignity  and  reserve 
justly  borne  by  the  English  and  Spanish  nations?  b  it 
thus  my  young  daughter  is  to  begin  her  career  in  Italy, 
and  prove  her  descent  from  the  Houses  of  Elverton  and 
Mendomt" 

"  I  could  not  come  up  the  private  way,"  pleaded  Leti* 
tia,  "  for  the  door  was  loclced ;  and  I  could  not  remain 
in  the  saloon,  because  there  were  two  gentlemen  in  the 
arte-rooms,  and  directly  Poll  heard  them  she  screamed 
out  "  Favorisca,"  and  they  came  into  the  great  ealoon. 
But,  indeed,  it  is  not  I  that  have  taught  her  that  word, 
but  Ferdhuud,  ever  since  he  went  with  Papa  to  the  an- 
iienoe  of  the  English  Cardinal.  Is  it  not  so.  Mamma  t" 
"  It  is-^t  is,  my  sweetest  love,"  said  Lady  Elverton. 
"You  are  not  to  bkme: — ^is  she,  my  Lord?  She  could 
not,  of  course,  renuun  in  the  saloon,  and  the  private 
•tairs,  you  hear,  were  not  accessible," 

"But  why  is  she  permitted," said  Lord  Elverton,  "to 
remain  one  instant  in  those  reception-rooms  t  And 
where  are  her  attendants,  or  her  govcnMSst  And  what 
la  to  be  done  with  ha  now!" 


■  i<>t^^^HI 


gMlMI 


xja&gfl 


YtO 


aom  AWD  nn  abbst. 


'v! :! 


••  Surely  she  m»y  return  with  us,"  suggested  Lady  El> 
ferton.     "  Where  is  Poll,  my  angel  1" 

"  She  is  talking  to  the  visitors,"  said  Letitia;  "and  1 
have  promised  to  go  up  stairs  to  tell  my  Reverend  Sis- 
ter  that  a  gentleman  has  come  who  says  that  she  is  a 
kind  friend  to  him,  and  that  his  name  is  De  Gr^y." 

"  De  Gr^y !"  echoed  Lord  Elverton,  aroused  from  his 
present  annoyance  to  an  awakened  interest  in  his  little 
daughter's  tale. 

At  that  moment  a  head  peeped  out  from  one  of  the 
Tooms  on  that  floor,  and  Letitia  recognising  her  gover- 
ne»),  called  her  to  her  aid,  and  left  her  fond  mother's 
band  to  fiilfil  her  embassy.  Lord  Elverton  passed  down 
the  stairs,  but  her  Ladyship,  though  mechanically  mov- 
ing with  him  as  she  leaned  or.  his  arm,  followed  witli  her' 
gaie  the  little  form  of  Letitia,  exclaiming  in  Spanish, 
**  What  to  a  childless  mother's  heart  can  wealth  or  ho- 
nours bring  1" 

In  the  meanwhile,  Poll  had  not  only  continued  to  TMdsh 
her  visitors  "a  happy  night,"  but  had  learned  a  new 
word  from  her  present  guardian,  which  she  was  repeating 
almost  to  his  satistaction,  when  the  sound  of  approaching 
fooUteps  induced  her  again  to  scream  "  Favorisca  1"  and 
cause  a  genuine  smile  from  Lord  Elverton  as  he  entered, 
saying,  "  Can  it  be  possible  that  once  more  I  greet  one 
who  bears  the  name  of  De  Gr^y  T 

Young  Arthur  then  advancing,  briefly  told  his  tale; 
and  as  Lord  Elverton  showed  an  evident  wish  to  identify 
his  connection  to  the  De  Greys  of  England,  Arthur  pro 
oeeded  ^'>  relate  his  &m3y  pedigree,  and  how  the  De 
Oreyo  o1  Languedoc  were,  in  the  time  of  Ciharlemagne, 


^^mrnsm 


mm 


KOMI   AND  TU   ABBRT. 


Itl 


reigning  princes  over  that  tmct  of  country ;  how  the  el 
dcr  bran V  It  became  merged  by  alliance  into  a  royal 
name,  and  passed  to  their  greater  inheritance  from 
France ;  that  the  second  branch  were  the  De  Greys  of 
England,  "  who,"  said  he,  "  I  find  spell  the  common  pre- 
position **  de,"  which  only  means  of,  ynth  a  large  D." 

"And  very  tenacious  are  all  our  Anglo-Norman  fumi 
lies  of  their  great  D,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  because  it 
marks  their  date.  They  do  not  mind  its  beuig  bad 
Trench :  on  the  contrary,  they  like,  in  their  insular  pr  :de, 
to  be  distinguished  from  any  French  name,  however  an 
oient  or  noble.  By  Norman,"  continued  his  Lordship, 
**  I  intend  those  warriors  or  courtiers  who  followed  Wil. 
liam  of  Normandy  to  the  conquest  of  England.  Our  De 
Greys  distinguished  themselves  by  great  valour  at  the 
battle  of  Hastings,  and  had  grants  of  baronial  lands 
•warded  to  them  from  the  Crown,  and  were  contented, 
generally  speaking,  to  date  iVom  that  epoch ;  but  th&y 
traced  from  Languedoc,  and  I  know  not  where  else  in 
the  fiir  mists  of  antiquity  ;  so  that  a  story  goes  of  my 
old  friend  Sir  Hugh,  that,  being  once  a  little  ruffled,  he 
called  the  conquest  '  a  thing  of  yesterday.' " 

Arthur  laughed,  and  said,  "This  '  thing  of  yesterday,' 
however,  has  changed  the  title  of  the  family.  You  do 
not  acknowledge  our  Counts  to  be  your  Earls.  You  do 
not  acknowledge  ua  at  all,  except  in  mere  courtKJsy : 
therefore,  I  should  not  like  to  booomo  naturalized  in 
England,  to  be  the  heir  of  your  daughter  Lady  De  Grey, 
18  she  so  generously  has  intimated  to  me  through  my 
Preceptor  of  the  Roman  College." 

Lord  Elverton,  thcu^  he  felt  this  announoeinent  to  be 


II 'i 


%  Blight  imprudence  on  the  part  of  young  Arthur,  and  X 
slight  shock  to  himself,  merely  said,  "  You  must  be  sa- 
tisfied that  the  Counts  de  Gr6y  became  the  proud  baronu 
of  England,  at  Runnymede,  Cressy,  Poictiers,  and  Agin- 
court,  and  so  on,  till  a.  fair  lady  of  the  elder  English  raoe 
carried  the  title  into  a  family  of  Earls— and  so  we  hear  no 
more  of  the  doughty  Barons  de  Grey.  They  may  be  said 
to  have  had  hereditary  knighthood  by  their  valour,  until 
their  present  title  was  created  by  James  the  First,  and 
granted  to  the  younger  branch  of  the  English  line,  now 
extinct  by  the  death  of  Sir  Eustace  De  Grey,  my  son-in 

law." 

"  I  have  no  landed  inheritance  left  in  Languedoc,"  said 
Arthur  De  Grey.  "  I  have  just  returned  from  a  melan- 
choly and  yet  pleasing  excursion  round  the  country  over 
which  my  ancestors  had  the  right  to  march  as  sovereigns, 
with  banners  displayed,  using  their  own  coinage,  and 
with  power  over  life  and  death.  I  am  the  last  of  the 
third  and  youngest  branch ;  but  I  can  trace,  and  be 
traced,  without  a  blot  on  my  fair  shield.  I  am  Count 
Arthur  de  Gr^y,  with  a  clear  three-hundred  a-year  ster- 
ling, and  my  good  sword  when  I  leave  the  College.  I 
wUl  not  live  despoiled  of  my  title,  and  despised  in  your 
proud  England." 

At*  this  moment  Poll,  in  a  subdued  tone,  because  not 
sure  of  her  new  word,  said  "  Lilia !  Lilia !"  and  the  flush 
of  national  resentment  on  Arthur's  brow  was  suddenly 
changed  in  character.  He  started  up,  without  perceiving 
that  Lord  Elverton's  countenance  beamed  towards  him, 
and  that  his  prudent  fellow-student  was  trying  to  ind»  je 
Poll  to  say  once  more  "  Felice  notte."   Bu*.  his  excitement 


■-fiiilMWIHW^^ 


kOMC  AMD  n»   ABBBT. 


188 


hur,  aud  x 
tust  be  80- 
}ud  baronti 
and  Agin- 
nglish  race 
we  hear  no 
lay  be  said 
ilour,  until 
First,  and 
I  line,  now 
my  son-in 

ledoc,"  said 
n  a  melan- 
juntry  over 
sovereigns, 
)inage,  and 
last  of  the 
ce,  and  be 
[  am  Count 
a-year  ster- 
CoUege.  I 
Bed  in  your 

because  not 
ind  the  flush 
IS  suddenly 
t  perceiving 
swards  him, 
ig  to  ind*  je 
)  excitement 


was  still  considered  national,  and  produced  the  most  kind 
•i.d  soothing  expressions  from  both  his  noble  hosts. 

"  I  am  not  un  exclusive,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  on  the 
Bcore  of  nationality.  I  have  married  a  Spanish  lady,  and 
might  say  that  I  hod  become  half  Spanish,  were  I  not 
conscious  of  nearly  equal  friendship  and  esteem  for  the 
'  preux  Chevaliers'  of  France." 

Aithur  and  his  friend  now  received  an  invitation  to 
the  reception-room  above,  where  the  Religious  Ladies 
spoke  to  those  with  whom  they  had  essential  business^ 
and,  as  he  mounted  the  stairs,  certain  more  favourable 
ideas  of  England,  and  of  the  offered  inheritan  e,  arising 
either  fi'om  Lord  and  Lady  Elverton's  kindness,  or  from 
A  shadowing  hope  of  sharing  his  lot  in  England  with  LUia, 
began  to  warm  his  heart  anew  towards  the  Kcligious,  in 
whom  he  had  found  so  unexpected  a  benefiictress. 

The  reception-room  was  vacant,  and  Arthur's  reviving 
spirits  began  again  to  flog  when  he  found  himself  ad- 
dressed from  behind  a  trellised  partition  thrown  across 
an  archway  into  some  other  room. 

"  Let  us  bless  the  Lord  !"  said  the  Religious,  in  Latin. 

"Thanks  be  to  God!"  replied  Arthur;  and  throwing 
himself  on  his  knees,  he  begged  hor  blessing. 

She  smilingly  said,  "  I  am  no  consecrated  Abbess.  I 
can  only  fervently  pray,  as  I  do,  that  Almighty  Grod  may 
bless  you  with  a  long,  faithful  life,  and  happy  death." 

"Amen,"  said  Artu.»r  rising.    "That  will  do  as  well 

rujy  crosiercd  A>>bess  could  give  it  me.  And  I  hope, 
Madam,  tliat  you,  and  all  the  ladies,  are  well  ?"  added 
he,  vably  tiying  to  distinguish  who  were  in  t  •  'unef 
yoom,  ttad  most  cordially  at  that  moment  hati.  g  -Hi* 


__ 


4' 

j; 


1 

:    f 


ROMS   itHD  THC   ABBST. 

work  and  gratings,  luid  all  th^t  indioaied  seolusiun  and 
restriction.  "  Has  th»  baautiful  young  lady  who  waa 
Tith  you  at  Vevcy  come  to  Rome  to  finish  her  education 
with  the  Ladies  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  at  Trinitii  del 
Monti  r 

"No,"  replied  the  Religious,  "Miss  Sinclair  is  still 
with  us,  and  has  long  wished  me  to  return  her  thanks  for 
the  useful  little  book  you  lent  her — the  book  which  told 
▼'*  0  you  ere,  and  has  fixed  our  future  solicitude  for  your 
welfare." 

"  I  am  totally  unworthy  of  all  your  goodness,  Mudaii  " 
said  Arthur,  with  renewed  depression  of  spiriu.  It 
seemed  evident  that,  as  ho  had  been  expected  and  pre- 
pared for,  Lilia  was  not  to  appear,  and  he  again  ^-esolved 
to  decline  the  English  estate.  He  had  just  read  Madame 
de  StadPs  "Corunie,"  and  a  night-maie  arose  of  stiff 
English  ladies  ui  a  circle,  eternally  drinking  tea,  with 
port-wine-drinking  lords  and  squires,  to  disgust  him  to- 
wards Engliuid. 

"  The  Reverend  Fathers  of  your  G>llege  will  hsve  in* 
formed  you,"  continued  the  Religious  Lady,  "  tittt  the 
gift  is  not  to  be  made  unconditionally.  Three  years,  I 
understand,  vrill  intervene  beforeyouareof  age.  During 
these  years — ^perhaps  the  most  precious  of  your  life— 
you  must  not  only  complete  the  course  of  studies  and  the 
classical  tour  proposed  by  these  Reverend  Professors,  but 
you  must  also  be  prepared  to  become  'the  Lord  of  the 
Manor'  in  its  best  meaning, — to  become  the  Benefactor 
of  the  Church  and  of  the  poor,  and  the  defender  of  the 
widow  and  orphan.  You  must  reside  on  the  estate,  ex- 
«epting  journeys  of  business  or  of  pious  recrei^oii,  nd 


ROiat  AHD  1HB  ABBir. 


iu 


oliuiun  and 
r  who  WM 
r  education 
Trinitii  dei 

lair  is  atill 

*  thanks  for 

which  told 

do  for  you? 

spiriu.  ft 
id  and  pra- 
kiu  t-esolved 
od  Madame 
ose  of  stiff 
g  tea,  with 
;ust  him  to« 

rill  hsve  in* 
,  '*t)iattfa« 
ree  yean,  I 
je.  During 
your  life- 
lies  and  the 
feasors,  but 
LX>rd  of  the 

Benefiu)tor 
nder  of  the 

estate,  et> 
reatioii,  nol 


txceeiing  rlz  months.    Every  third  year  you  coa  reriail 
France.    Is  this  too  severe  V* 

"  Oh,  Madam !"  again  exolaimei*  poor  Arthur,  "  I  am 
too  unworthy !" 

At  this  iuRtant,  as  he  sat  partly  concealed  by  the 
drapery  that  hung  on  each  side  of  the  trellised  archway, 
the  door  of  the  room  in  which  he  w^s  seated  was  thrown 
open  by  a  servant,  and  Lilia,  dressed  in  white  muslin, 
appeared,  with  a  garland  of  blush-roses  in  her  flaxen 
hair,  and  in  her  arms  a  little  harp  of  true  Erin  greoL 
Never  did  the  intentions  of  any  student  of  the  Romar 
College  undei^go  so  rapid  a  change !  but  with  admirable 
presence  of  mind,  instead  of  springing  towards  the 
vision,  he  remembered  that  to  secure  its  reality  he  must 
accept  the  estate,  and  repeating,  in  a  tone  of  exultation 
more  than  drapondenoy, "  I  am  totally  unworthy.  Madam, 
of  all  your  goodness,"  he  added,  **  but  it  shall  be  the 
endeavour  of  my  future  life  to  prove  my  gratitude  T* 

Arthur  dien  darted  across  the  room  to  pour  forth  a 
string  of  compliments  to  the  &ir  Lilia,  which,  although 
the  colour  rose  to  her  cheek,  she  received  with  that  oon^ 
descending  smile  whidi  girls  of  near  eighteen  are  wont 
to  bestow  on  boys  of  tbeit  own  age,  saying,  "  And  I  am 
very  mudi  pleased  to  see  you  again,  Count  Arthur,  for 
you  remind  me  of  that  happy  evening  at  the  Lake  of 
Geneva." 

"But  surely,"  cried  Arthur,  "you  have  had  many 
iM^py  evenings  ainoel  Every  day,  every  hour  of  yowr 
Ufb  ou^t  to  be  happy !" 

"  Why  that  is  exactly  what  my  Father  Confessor 
wya,"  replied  Lilia,  lau^dng;  "and  aa  he  rnnrfuju 


.*r>t'. 


g  m^^ 


Hi 


BOMB  AND  TBB  ABBET. 

Bie  oompliinenta,  I  must  suppose  that  you  learn  a  great 
deal  of  wisdom  at  your  Roman  College,  and  mean  to 
tell  me  that  if  I  do  not  always  find  hKppiness,  it  is  be 
cause  I  do  not  seek  it  where  alone  it  can  be  found  ?" 

''  No,  hideed !"  said  Arthur,  "  I  never  meant  to  intrude 
on  y:>u  wiy thing  so  trite.  I  meant  that  you  ought  to  b« 
happy  in  reward  for  making  others  so,  by  your  angelio 
beauty  and  captivation !" 

"ileverend  Mother,  are  you  still  beret"  said  Lilia, 
approaching  the  trellis. 

"  Ludoubtedly  !  vn,"  replied  the  Religious. 

"  it  must  be  many  years  sinoe  you  heard  such  noD« 
sense,"  said  Lilia. 

"  And  if  you,  Lilia,"  said  die  Religious, "  now  suspect 
these  praisM  to  be  nonsense,  you  will  soon  feel  them  to 
be  so,  ;^id  will  never  make  them  your  aim  in  your 
avowed  search  after  happiness." 

"And  why  were  you  so  happy  that  evening  at 
Vevey  1"  inquired  Arthur,  returning  to  the  religious  re. 
treat,  as  he  observed  tha^  Lilia  remained  there. 
•  "  I  was  happy  at  Vevey,"  replied  Lilia,  "  because  I  had 
determined  to  be  contented  without  my  brothers,  pro* 
vided  they  were  happy,  and  to  enjoy  the  beautifiil  scenes 
through  whidi  I  was  passing.  I  bad  begun  to  feel  due 
on  the  Rhine,  and  then  again  on  the  terrace  at  Berne, 
where  I  first  saw  Mont  Blanc ;  but  there  were  still  so 
many  touching  remembrances  about  those  boys  of  mine, 
that  I  cried  myself  to  sleep  every  night,  except  the  night 
at  Vevey." 

''And  the  nig^t  at  Vevey t"  said  Arthur  eegeriy, 
"  who  did  you  remembw  t" 


tm 


BOMI  AND  TBI  ABBKT. 


w 


**  It  was  no  longer  who,  but  what,"  replied  T<ilia;  "  foi 
remembered  the  blue  Lake,  and  the  gliding  vessels,  and 
my  newly-formed  happiness ;  and  at  Martigni  I  remem- 
bered the  Valley  of  the  Bhonc  with  its  first  miles  of 
beautiful  foliage,  the  majestic  chesnut-trces,  the  tender 
acacias  and  brilliant  barberries — then  the  narrower  pass, 
the  cascades  on  each  side,  in  every  form,  the  awful 
remains  of  whirlwinds,  and,"  added  she,  laughing,  "  Re- 
verend  Mr.  Terrison  dropping  fiist  luileep,  and  Lucy 
exclaiming  'how  firightful !' " 

"Then  you  did  remember  the  •tpAo,'"  said  Arthur, 
smiling;  "and  did  you  never  remember  to  say  an  'Ave' 
for  a  poor  scholar  wbo  ofken  thought  of  you  t" 

"  Not  in  his  prayers,"  said  she ;  "  so  he  did  not  deserve 
to  be  remembered  further  than  as  the  donor  of  a  guide- 
book." 

At  this  moment  a  Spanish  lady,  whom  Lilia  hod 
thought  to  be  already  expecting  her  in  the  room,  where 
she  had  found  only  the  two  students,  entered  to  take 
charge  of  her  down  the  stairs  to  Lady  Elverton,  who  had 
included  Lilia  in  her  party  to  the  Villa  Boi^hese,  wher6 
was  that  evening  to  be  held  an  early  juvenile  f%te.  It 
was  not,  however,  quite  the  time  appointed  to  be  ready, 
nnd  the  lady,  seating  herself,  begged  not  to  interrupt  the 
little  party ;  for  the  elder  student,  thinking  that  a  good 
opening  had  now  been  made  to  take  leave,  continued 
standing,  as  a  hint  to  his  friend.  But,  amidst  the  many 
remembrances  spoken  of,  had  Arthur  at  that  moment 
been  called  on  to  remember  the  Roman  College,  ho 
could  only  have  admitted  a  confused  notion  of  some 
state-prison,  attached  to  the  church  of  Saint  Ignatius,  intc 


^W^^i!''- 


I  « 


i 


I'' 


BOMB  ABD  TIB  ABBBT. 

which  muslin  frocks  and  green  harps  were  not  admitted. 
The  Spanish  lady  now  begged  Lilia  to  sing  her  some  little 
Italian  hymn,  for  which  there  was  just  time ;  and  Lilia, 
instantly  complying,  struck  the  minor  chords  of  the  popu< 
lar  hymn  to  the  Madonna;  but  then  stopped,  and  said, 
**  My  little  harp  wants  the  deep  bass  notes  for  this  chorus 
—you  two  Roman  btudents  must  supply  them."  This 
they  did,  and  all  sang — 

••  EttIt*  Maria !  Maria  errira  ! 
EvTlra  Maria,  •  Qui  te  en4.» 

"  And  when  may  I  come  again,  Reverend  Madam  V* 
■aid  Arthur,  to  whom  it  had  suddenly  occurred  to  take 
leave  and  wait  below,  that  he  might  hand  the  &ir  Liti* 
to  the  carriage,  and  perhaps  be  invited  by  Lady  Elver* 
ton  to  join  her  party  to  the  f&te. 

*'  Come  to  see  me  once  every  month,"  replied  the  Re* 
ligious,  "and  the  next  time  bring  the  legal  proofs  that 
you  are  the  last  of  the  Counts  de  Gr^y  of  Languedoo. 
These  proofs,  and  your  emblaasoned  pedigree,  you  wrote 
word  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Superior  o^  the  College  at 
Chamberry.    Are  they  now  in  Rome  t" 

"  They  are,  indeed,"  replied  Arthur ;  "  if  you  will  per. 
mit  me  I  will  bring  them  to-morrow  V* 

•*  Not  till  this  day  month,"  said  she ;"  and  till 
tnd  dfcr,  m%y  God  bkn  7«i  r 


HUM 


ittte 


I  adnultod. 
some  littla 
and  Lilla, 
)f  the  popu* 
I,  and  said, 
this  chorus 
sm."    This 


Madam  r 
red  to  talce 
le  &ir  Lilift 
Ady  Elver* 

lied  the  Be> 
proofs  that 
LanguedoOi 
,  you  wrote 
B  College  at 

ou  willpeiw 

id  till 


tuna  AVD  TBB  ABnr. 


IH 


CHAPTER  ZIIL 

I  iw  tbM  OB  tlM  aoantala  height 

Ttt*  thj- n^lMtie  rtaad : 
Thy  thadow,  'gaJnit  the  WMtam  Ught, 

Falli  on  the  dweit  und ! 

At  mid^y  on  Ascension  lliursday,  1846,  was  renewed 
the  sublime  scene  of  the  Papal  Benediction  from  the 
balcony  of  St  John  Lateran,— «  blessing,  like  that  from 
St  Peter's  at  Easter,  extending  to  the  whole  world,  and 
conveying  still  more  the  character  of  universality,  from 
the  view  of  the  vast  Campagua  spread  before  the  Q^ 
thedral  of  St  John,  skirted  by  the  mountain  range  to- 
wards Albano. 

Apart  from  the  dense  mass  of  carriages,  and  as  much 
sheltered  as  the  case  would  admit,  under  the  straggling 
hedgerow-trees,  between  the  Santa  Scala  and  the  spot 
where  the  Artillery  was  stationed,  was  a  hired,  but  neat 
vehicle,  half-open,  and  turned  in  the  precise  angle  r» 
quired  to  obtain  a  fidl  view  of  the  still  vacant  balcony 
of  the  church.  A  venerable  old  gentleman,  who  by 
his  small  round  hat  was  apparently  not  a  priest,  was 
expatiating  to  his  sole  companion  on  the  dignity  of  the 
titular  Saint  of  the  Basilic  before  them :  "  For,"  said 
he,  «  what  says  St  Bernard,  'Hie  CSiurdi  at  Home, 
that  Mother  and  Mistress  of  all  the  Qiurohes,'  from 
which  is  said,  ♦Peter,  I  have  prayed  for  thee  that  thy 
liuth  IkO  not,'  has  been  ocmseorated  to  bear,  after  the 


.'.  jv- \    .■■■\f^ 


i!£^Mt^^  .'jki^-'<^"i-r'rffe'i?sl-^ 


14t 


Bom   AMD  TUC   ABIWr. 


■■  il 


.  f' 


name  of  tho  Saviour,  that  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  Ib 
buth,  it  is  fitting  that  the  spouse,  in  ascending  the  throne 
of  her  principality,  should  be  accompanied  by  h<T  most 
illustrious  friend.  Here  was  Peter  crucified  ;  here  was 
Paul  beheaded ;  yet  the  dignity  remains  to  tho  Precursor 
Home  is  crimsoned  by  the  blood  of  Innumerable  martyrs, 
yet  all  pre-eminence  is  awarded  the  holy  Patriarch.  Over 
all  is  John  the  greatest — universal  is  his  prerogative: 
above  all  is  he  admirable.  Who,  in  truth  has  ever  been 
so  gloriously  announced  1  Who  has  ever  been,  from  the 
womb  of  his  mother,  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  the 
Gospel  relates  of  him  ?  Who  has  leaped  in  the  maternal 
womb  1  Whose  nativity  does  the  Church  celebrate  with 
pomp  1  Who  sighed  for  the  desert  1  Who  lived  in  the 
manner  the  most  sublime  ?  Who  was  the  furst  to  teach 
the  power  and  kingdom  of  God  1  Who  baptized  the 
King  of  Glory  ?  To  whom  was  the  Trinity  first  clearly 
manifested  1  To  whom  was  the  lilpe  testimcHiy  rendered 
by  the  Lord  Jesus?  Who  has  the  Church  similarly 
honoured  ?  John  the  Patriarch,  indeed !  the  chief  and 
last  of  the  Patriarchs.  John  the  Prophet,  and  more  than 
a  Prophet !  since  he  could  point  out  with  his  finger  Him 
whose  coming  he  announced.  John  the  Angel,  and 
ehosen  of  all  angels,  as  the  Saviour  bears  witness,  saying; 
'  Behold  I  send  my  messenger  before  me.'  John  the 
Apostle,  but  the  first  and  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  since  he 
was  the  first  '  Man  sent  from  Grod.'  John,  Evangelist^ 
and  first  announcer  of  the  Gospel ;  a  Preacher — ^preach- 
ing good  tidings  of  the  kingdom  of  Grod.  John  the 
Virgin,  bright  mirror  of  virginity — ^type  of  modesty- 
example  of  chastity.    John   the  Martyr,  and  Uf^t  of 


iptist.    In 
the  throne 

her  most 

here  was 
Precursor 
e  martyrs, 
rch.  Over 
erogative : 
ever  been 
I,  from  the 
oat,  as  the 
e  maternal 
ibrate  with 
ived  in  the 
St  to  teach 
tptized  the 
rst  dearly 
y  rendered 
1  tiimilarly 

chief  and 
[more  than 
finger  Him 
ingel,  and 
Bw,aayutg, 

J<^n  the 
»,  since  he 
Evangelist, 
!r — ^preach* 

John  the 
modesty- 
id   li^t  of 


"'wsaBWK'^" 


KOm  AKI>  TRC  ABBtT. 


141 


iKartyrs,  the  very  type  of  martyrdom ;  the  voice  that 
ories  in  the  desert — ^the  Precursor  of  the  Judge— the 
Herald  of  the  Divine  Word-— the  brilliant  and  shining 
Lamp,  Elias,  uniting  die  Law  and  the  Prophets !' " 
"  Well !  what  think  you  of  tUs  summary  of  all  the 
perfections  of  Saint  John  the  Baptist  1"  said  the  principal 
occupant  of  the  carriage  as  he  dosed  the  small  work  of 
Saint  Buonaventura,  (torn  which  he  had  cited  this  passage 
of  Saint  Bernard.  It  was  only  yesterday  that,  in  looking 
over  this  book  again,  I  fell  on  this  panegyric,  and  thought 
that  instead  of  reading  it  through  in  a  dry,  cold  humour, 
I  would  bring  it  here  to  read  to  day  with  proper  enthu* 
siasm ;  so  that  you  have  had  the  advantage  as  well  as 
myself,  Mrs.  Moss,  of  filling  your  thoughts  with  this 
wonderfiil '  friend  of  God '  in  the  very  sight  of  his  diief 
monument.    Well !" 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  have  had  all  my  life  the  greatest  respect 
tbr  Saint  John  the  Baptist,  and  I  think  it  very  just  that 
the  first  church  in  Rome  should  be  dedicated  to  the  first 
Christian  man.  But  you  had  better  now  be  getting  out 
your  long  glasses,  and  kneel  upon  the  seat,  for  I  see  the 
Bishops  and  Cardinals  coming  out,  at  last,  on  the  bal- 
cony. Yes;  and  here  come  the  white-feather  ftns, 
and  the  Pope  himself." 

And  now  the  bun  of  expectation  was  hushed — the 
preliminary  prayers  were  said — the  cannon  sounded  in 
the  distance — and  the  holy  Gr^ry,  raising  his  paternal 
arms,  gave  his  last  benediction  to  Rome  wad  to  the  world. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Everard  to  the  ccaolw 
QUB,  who,  after  devoutly  kneeling  on  the  turf,  had  re 
iBMmled  Um  box,  **  I  will  pay  you  for  waiting  quietljr 


•■■■'■  '■^^"   ■■■■■  1^  •      -^    


s 


1> 


bere  another  half  hour,  instead  of  jamming  me  amongrt 
all  those  other  carriages." 

The  man  obeyed ;  and  at  length,  the  time  specified 
being  expired,  our  old  friend  consented  to  being  re-otm* 
ducted  to  his  apartments  in  the  Via  Gregoriana,  on  Uie 
Pinoian,  where,  with  his  faithful  companion,  he  had 
remained  hidden  from  those  he  best  loved  since  October 
in  the  past  year.  His  concealment  had  been  facilitated 
by  two  illnesses,  not  dangerous  but  tedious,  during  which 
Mrs.  Moss  was  often  obliged  to  leave  him  to  the  care  of 
the  kind  Italian  family  with  whom  they  lodged,  in  order 
to  entertain  him,  on  her  return,  by  her  characteristic 
accounts  of  all  she  had  seen.  One  of  the  daughters  of 
the  family  was  always  ready  to  aax>mpany  her:  Mr. 
Everard  paid  the  coach-hire,  and  very  soon  Mrs.  Moss, 
in  figured  black  silk  for  "greater  doubles,"  and  plain 
black  silk  for  "  semiJoubles,"  was  most  practically  at 
home,  not  only  in  St.  Peter's,  but  in  all  the  principal 
diurdies  where  were  held  the  sacred  functions  of  Cbriat 
mas,  Epiphany,  Holy  Week,  and  Easter. 

But  an  account  of  the  ceremonies,  and  her  own  parli 
•ular  impressions,  were  not  the  only  subjects  of  disoourba 
to  the  invalid.  Occasionally  Mrs.  Moss  distinguished 
IJlia,  either  with  Lady  Elverton  or  with  other  ladies, 
who  were  soon  discovered,  by  listening  to  her  prattling 
countrywomen  near  her,  to  be  the  two  Russian  Princesses, 
who  had  apartments  in  the  same  Locanda.  Thrice  she 
had  seen  the  two  Nuns,  and  then  Lilia  was  with  them. 
These  three  memorable  days — ^to  vimt  the  Sacred  Crib 
at  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  to  ascend  kneeling  the  Sacred 
Btairt  during  Holy  Week,  and  to  kiM  the  slab  of  the  tabl* 


BOMB   AMD  TBB  ABHtT. 


u» 


of  the  Last  Supper  At  St.  John  Lateran'a,— afforded  tuilv 
oient  food  for  thought  and  convene  at  the  different  seasons 
in  which  they  had  occurred.  But  Mr.  Everard  had  not 
been  ill  during  the  whole  of  so  nuuiy  months.  He  had 
started  up  at  the  Epiphany,  and  every  day  of  that  octave 
had  regularly  attended  the  various  Masses  of  the  Orientals 
in  communion  with  Rome,  at  Sant'  Andrea  della  Valle. 
He  purchased  several  copies  of  the  little  worlc  detailing 
the  ceremonies  of  that  week,  commemorative  of  "  the 
tluree  Kings,"  and  the  Call  of  the  Gentiles ;  nor  did  he 
disdain  the  dramatic  representation,  at  tlie  altar  end  of 
Uie  church,  of  those  learned  and  royal  magi  offering  their 
respective  gifts  to  the  infant  King  of  Kings.  On  those 
days  he  caught  occasional  glimpses  of  a  slight  form  like 
Lilia's,  and  once  he  was  enabled  unseen  to  watch  her 
sountenance  as  she  gazed  on  the  illuminated  star ;  and 
he  could  trace,  so  he  fancied,  the  bright  and  glowing 
aspirations  of  her  soul.  To  her  he  hod  sent,  (m  the  eve 
of  the  Epiphany,  one  of  the  little  books,  but  all  in  the 
same  mystery:  he  would  not  direct  the  book  himsell^ 
neither  might  Mrs.  Moss  direct  it,  "  because,"  said  he, 
**  Lily  may  have  seen  your  hand-writing  on  the  pots  of 
jam  at  Bumleigh ;"  th<*refore  one  of  the  daughters  of 
their  present  home  was  to  accomplish  that  task ;  and 
accordingly  Lilia  received  her  book  with  as  much  plea- 
sure  and  wonderment  as  he  could  have  desired,  and  was 
holding  it  open  at  the  time  he  watched  her. 

But  it  was  now  a  long  time  since  the  Epiphany :  only 
Mrs.  Moss,  not  he,  had  seen  her  in  Holy  Week  ascend 
the  Scala  Santa.  He  would  not  seek  her  now,  during 
these  ten  days  of  retreot  and  prayer,  befoi«  Whit> 


rr 


r 


'i  ■     1 


144 


BOMB  AXD  TUB   ABBBT. 


Sunday ;  but  then  he  would  mako  up  his  mind— yoa,  ht 
would  conquer  his  n«rves,  and  spoak  once  more  to 
Lily,  and  to  that  other  one  I    . 

On  the  sacred  day  of  the  Ascension  of  '  '  ^«  that 
**  other  one,"  and  her  Religious  Sister,  ha*  .ved  the 

Papal  benediction  kneeling  at  their  open  windows,  the 
moment  being  announced  to  them  by  the  discbarge  of 
artillery  and  the  sound  of  every  church-bell ;  and  they 
soon  afler  fell  into  discourse  respecting  that  triumphant 
day.  Then  the  elder  Religious,  giving  the  book  she  held 
into  the  hand  of  Sister  Agnes,  desired  her  to  read  aloud 
the  comments  of  Saint  Bernard  on  the  great  Feast  of  the 
Ascension,  thus : — 

"  My  dearest  Brethren,  this  solemnity  is  most  glorious  t 
It  is  the  consummation  and  completion  of  all  the  rest. 
It  is  the  happy  cloister  of  the  long  pilgrimage  of  Jesus 
Christ,  Son  of  the  Living  God.  Without  doubt  we  do 
most  justly  celebrat'^.  that  day  of  solemnity  and  joy,  in 
which  the  super-celestial  Sun,  the  Sun  of  J  'ce,  mani- 
fested Himself  to  our  sight :  and  stall  grei  « joy  and 
exultation  when,  having  rent  the  rock  oi  ...  wupulchre, 
He  appeared  surrounded  with  happiness  and  consecrated 
the  first  fruits  of  our  resurrection.  But  what  would  all 
tJiese  feasts  signify  to  me,  if  my  life  were  limited  to  this 
earth  1  for  I  declare  that  the  exile  of  my  present  exist- 
ence is  scarcely  less  intolerable  to  me  than  Hell  1"  Thus 
fiu*  Saint  Bernard. 

"  As  to  the  day  of  the  Ascension,"  says  Saint  Buona> 
▼entura,  "  it  is  truly  the  most  solenm  of  all  the  Feasts 
of  the  Lord  Jesus ;  because  to-day  He  is  seated  at  the 
right  hand  of  his  Father,  and  takes  the  repose  of  hb 


BOMC   AND  TBI  ADBKT. 


I4S 


i  more  to 

'   rd,  that 

.ved  the 

indowB,  the 

liscbarge  of 

;  and  they 
triumphant 
ok  she  held 
I  read  aloud 
Feast  of  the 

Mt  glorious  1 
dl  the  rest, 
hge  of  Jesus 
oubt  we  do 
and  joy,  in 
'ce,  inani- 
<  joy  and 
„Bpulchre, 
consecrated 
at  would  all 
mited  to  this 
resent  exist- 
elll"    Thus 

Sunt  Buona- 
the  Feasts 
«ated  at  the 
epoae  of  hia 


pllgrimngc.  It  is  also  the  particular  Feast  of  all  the  C^ 
lestial  iSpirits,  w  hy  receive  now  joy  in  beholding  their  Ix)rd 
for  the  lirst  time  clothed  in  His  humanity.  On  thin  day 
also  begins  the  first  restoration  of  the  losses  which  these 
blessed  Spirits  had  experienced,  when  a  third  part  of 
their  angelic  company  fell  with  Lucifer.  It  is  eqiuklly 
the  Festival  of  all  that  multitude  of  illustrious  Patri- 
archs  and  Prophets,  and  holy  souls,  who  to-day  for  the 
fir&u  time  enter  their  supernal  country."^  ~ 

"  And  therefore,"  added  Sister  Agnes,  "  it  is  very  sel« 
fish  in  me  to  sigh  when  I  extinguish  the  Paschal  Candle, 
in  token  that  the  visible  Presence  of  our  risen  Lord  i'  no 
more  with  us.  This  is  indeed  Hit  Feast — all  the  rest 
were  for  us. 

"  And  this  also  hidudes  us,"  said  the  elder  Religious, 
"  for  what  says  our  Lord  t — '  It  is  expedient  for  you  that 
I  go  away,  for  if  I  go  not  away  the  <^'omforter  will  not 
oome,  whom  I  will  send  you — the  Spirit  of  Truth,  who 
will  teach  you  aU  truth.'  And  then  the  Angels:— > 
*  This  Jesus,  who  is  taken  up  from  you  into  Heaven, 
•hall  BO  nome  as  you  have  seen  Him  going  into  Heaven.* 
And  let  us  remember  that  other  precious  consolation  of 
our  Lord,  'I  will  not  leave  you  orphans :  I  go,  and  I 
oome  to  you,  and  your  heart  shall  rejoice.    Alleluia !' " 

In  the  aftemotjn  of  WhiNMonday,  Lord  Elverton  as- 
cended from  his  own  rooms  *o  those  occupied  by  his 
daughter ;  and  entering  the  reception-room,  rang  the  lit- 
tle bell  pendant  at  the  grating.  As  his  Lordship  had 
established  a  particular  mode  of  sounding  that  little  bell, 
DO  one  ever  obeyed  its  call  on  those  occasions  but  the 
person  with  whom  he  came  expressly  to  converse ;  and 

r 


im 


ROMS  ARD  TEC  ABmnr. 


in  a  few  instAnts  the  pioub  ofleiing  of  their  first  aentenoet 
were  made  *o  God,  and  Lord  Elverton  then  said,  "  G* 
raldhie,  I  feur  that  the  latelligcDce  just  brought  me  is  t»0 
'*nie.     Our  good  old  Pope  is  dead  1" 

Ai  Lord  Elvevton  received  no  reply  or  comment,  he 
became  fearful  that  he  had  piven  the  mournful  news  too 
abruptly ;  but  was  rs-assured  in  overhearing  the  softly 
repeated  words  of  the  "  De  profundis,"  in  which  he 
joined;  and  the  paalm  and  versiole  being  finished,  his 
Ix)rdiihip  siud,  "  Will  this  most  un^dxpested  ©vent  embar- 
mss  your  affiurs,  my  dear  child  1" 

"  I  believe  nut,"  she  replied  >  '  unless,  which  God  lor- 
bid,  a  Pope  should  be  ele<5ted  who  cares  not  for  Eng. 
land." 

"That  is  little  likely,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  and  my 
mind  is  much  relieved.  I  feared  that,  at  the  best,  you 
would  find  things  greatly  delayed  by  this  event." 

"  I  siiall  find  things  greatly  delayed,"  said  Ger^ldine, 
"  if  the  Cardinals  are  compelled  to  remain  long  in  con- 
clave ;  but  this  first  twelvemonth  in  Rome  I  devote  to 
prayer  and  spiritual  consultation,  and  am  not  yet  ready 
to  present  my  petition  to  the  Head  of  the  Church." 

"As  to  the  detention  of  the  Cardinals  in  the  Conclave, 
there  never  has,  is  not,  nor  over  perhaps  will  be  a  ques- 
tion  more  impossible  to  decide,"  said  Lord  Elvertoa 
"  We  know  from  history  how  the  most  reasonable  calcu 
lations  have  been  at  fitult  respecting  Papal  elections. 
Foreign  and  political  influence,  however,  do  not  retard 
AS  they  once  did :  it  le  now  tacitly  understood  that  Ita* 
liana  only  can  be  choaon.    But  by  this  aoolusion  of  tJM 


BOMS   AND  TBI   ABUT. 


US 


setitenoM 
Md,  "  Ge- 
ms is  too 

nineui,  he 
[  news  too 
the  softly 
which  he 
lished,  his 
ent  embar< 

h  God  for- 
4  for  Eng- 

,  "and  my 
J  best,  you 
nt." 

Genldine, 
ong  iu  oon- 
I  devote  to 
t  yet  ready 
Hirch." 
le  Conclave, 
1  te  a  ques. 
d  Elvertoa 
tnable  oslcu 
il  elections. 
)  not  retard 
«d  that  Ita- 
.usion  of  th> 


Cardinals  you  lose  not  only  your  great  '  friend  at  oourti' 
but  also  your  spiritual  director." 

"  It  is  very  true,"  replied  Geraldine,  "  that  our  holy 
Cardinal  is  both  to  ue :  but  during  these  su>nmer  montha 
I  can  spare  everything  but  his  promised  prayers;  for 
having  given  his  Eminence,  in  separate  interviews,  my 
whole  confidence  respecting  the  proposed  Religious  Insti- 
tute, he  desired  me,  at  our  last  meeting,  to  draw  up  the 
whole  in  the  form  of  Constitutions,  which  will  occupy  me 
to  the  end  of  the  most  prolonged  Conclave.  But  can 
you  tell  me  no  piuticulars  of  the  illness  and  death  of  hi? 
hue  Holinass  ?" 

"  Nothing  further,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  than  that  be 
felt  a  sudden  chill  after  giving  the  Benediction  on  Ascen^ 
sion  Day  at  St.  John  Lateran's.  It  does  not  appear  that 
during  these  ten  days  there  were  any  symptoms  to  alarm 
until  yesterday,  when  the  humours  to  which  he  was  al> 
ways  subject,  and  which  bad  settled  in  one  of  his  legs, 
produced  a  rapid  mortification.  I  was  told  half  an  hour 
ago  that  the  Cardinals  do  not  yet  know  of  this  great 
death." 

At  this  instwit  the  Princess  entered  with  her  chief  lady 
oompaoion,  Madune  Julie,  to  tell  the  same  news,  and 
make  the  same  inquiries  respecting  the  inSucnoe 
which  the  death  of  the  Holy  Fi  ther  might  have  in 
retarding  the  religious  affiiirs  of  her  friend.  They 
were  accompanied  by  the  same  Canon  of  St.  Peter**) 
Dom  Pietrb,  who  had  some  months  before  made  'lim 
eulogium  of  the  Princess  to  the  English  Religious ;  and 
hi  a  (bw  uistants  Bishop  Fompallier,  whom  they  had  first 
wen  ia  the  Confessbuil  of  St  1  eter's,  and  wlio,  with 


^^■,-B7»i^i^Tw^^i»r»«w  f 


14S 


ROm   AND  THE   ABBKT. 


Dom  Pictro,  had  now  become  their  true  and  kind  fiicndj 
came  up  from  his  own  rooms  on  the  secord  floor  with 
d  e  same  benevolent  motive.  Tlie  Recluse  returned  her 
grateful  acknowledge-^  ents,  and  re^issured  her  friends  aa 
she  had  done  her  iuuier.  In  honour  of  the  Bishop  she 
threw  open  the  window  of  he''  *'^llis,  and  fetched  her 
three  companions  to  receive  h  ^essing,  and  to  listen  to 
tiie  interesting  conversation  that  ensued.  The  Princess, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  first  coraaienced  filially  lamentuig 
the  venerable  Pontiff,  under  whom  all  her  Gatholio  years 
had  been  passed,  and  found  consolation  in  recounting  to 
her  willing  auditors  his  many  virtues.  Hie  Bishop  then 
spoke  of  the  late  Pope's  strength  of  mind,  force  of  cha- 
racter, and  aptitude  for  business,  which  was  first  fiilly  dis* 
played  when  Cardinal  Head  of  the  Propaganda  Fide ;  and 
Dom  Pietro  remarked  that  when  God  willti  the  elevation 
of  a  man  no  opposition  can  avail.  '*  Gregory,"  said  he, 
*'met  with  human  opposition  at  every  step,  from  his  early 
youth  to  his  supreme  dignity,  but  in  vain :  he  became 
Monk,  Prior,  Abbot,  Bishop,  CB»*dirial,  Pope." 

"  And  with  him,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  dies  not  only 
ft  wise  Pope  and  a  good  man,  but  the  last  representative 
of  principles  which  his  bucoessor,  without  miraculous  as- 
sistance, will  find  it  impossible  to  maintain.  The  disa£ 
fected  in  the  Papal  States  are  in  formidable  number; 
the  prisoners  of  state  are  a  force  in  themselves :  order 
and  peace  of  mere  constraint  have  been  hitherU  kept,  be* 
cause  the  Pope  was  old,  and  a  new  election  soon  ex* 
pected.  But  from  all  that  has  passed  under  my  obser* 
vation  since  this  last  viiit  to  Borne,  it  may  be  appre* 
bended  Hat  the  Roman  people  will  threaten,  and  ende» 
rour  to  sway  li^he  Conclave." 


1^  fortnijiht  which  interrened  between  the  death  of 
Pope  Gregory  the  Sixteenth  and  the  entrance  of  the  Cxtr* 
dinais  into  the  Conclave  to  elect  his  successor,  was  en)> 
ployed  in  rendering  the  last  honours  due  to  him  who 
was  both  Priest  and  King,  and  was  also  n^cessarilj'  a 
time  of  great  labour  to  the  Cardinals ;  every  one  who 
bad  business  of  any  kind  to  transact  crowding  their  ante- 
rooms, and  urging  their  claim  to  be  seen  and  heard,  and 
this  with  the  more  excitement  and  ^^rtinacity,  as  it  was 
almost  universally  expected  that  th)  Conclave  would  last 
some  months.  During  that  fortnight  the  Cardinal  GranH 
Chamberlain  directed  all  the  funeral  obsequies  of  the  la> 
mented  Ponti£  Gregory  had  died  in  the  Vaticui,  and 
when  embalmed  lay  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  of  ihat  palace, 
on  a  simple  bior  clothed  in  the  white  habit  of  a  Monk  of 
Canuddoli.  From  this  chapel  he  was,  after  two  days, 
dressed  in  the  full  Pontifical  robes,  and  removed  in  so- 
lemn procession  to  a  side  chapel  in  the  church  of  St  Pe> 
ter,  where  the  feet  could  be  kissed  through  the  iron  raili 


m 


Bom  Atn  TRi  ABnv. 


big;  aiid,  ofter  two  more  days,  the  solemn  {nterment 
took  place  iu  their  vast  basilic — a  catafiilc,  or  temporary 
tomb,  having  been  erected  in  the  centre  aisle  just  before 
tlie  choir  of  the  Canons.  The  remains  of  the  humble  and 
holy  Pius  the  Eighth  were  removed  to  tire  catacombs  be- 
lov,  and  those  of  his  successor  in  the  Pontificate  were 
placed  in  the  funeral  chamber  allotted  to  the  last  de- 
ceased High  Pontiff,  which  is  close  to  the  Canons'  choir. 
These  two  removals  were,  as  they  always  are,  performed 
privately. 

On  the  day  but  one  before  the  Condave  our  English 
Religious  was  admitted  to  the  great  privilege  of  an  au- 
4ienoe  with  her  Carduial  Protector.  She  had  previously 
cent  her  respectful  condolence,  and  now  took  with  her, 
not  Sister  Agnes,  but  the  Spanish  lady,  who  from  hencc- 
fbnii  we  will  call  Donna  Candida.  This  excellent  \ro- 
man  often  proved  a  great  comfort  to  her  English  friend, 
in  giving  her  kind  services  on  these  and  other  occasions ; 
nnd  besides  the  advantage  of  looking  most  suitably  vene- 
rable and  respectable,  possessed  the  still  greater  merits 
cT  patience  and  discretion.  With  the  impression  re- 
ceived fiom  better  judges  than  herself,  that  the  Cardinals 
were  not  to  be  seen  or  heard  of  for  some  months,  this 
interview  with  her  holy  friend  and  director  seemed  a 
fiirewell  to  f  he  Religious,  and  every  word  of  advice  from 
him  doubly  precious.  As  usual,  however,  scruples  had 
to  take  flight  before  obedience.  His  Eminence  was  not 
only  pleased  r.nd  gratified  that  she  and  her  companions 
liad  witnessed  the  sacred  ceremonies  attendant  on  the 
death  of  the  late  Pope,  but  desired  her  to  go  herself  nnd 


BOm  AMD  TBI  ABBIT. 


\bi 


tkke  them,  to  see  the  preparatioiis  made  in  the  Palace  o( 
the  Quirinal  fur  the  Conclave. 

"  Go  into  my  cell,"  said  his  Eminence,  smiling,  **  thct 
you  may  aAcrwards  better  understand  my  life  du:  ii>g 
my  long  imprisonment,  and  may  more  constantly  pray 
for  me.    The  cells  are  drawn  by  lot,  and  mine  is  41." 

After  promising  to  do  so,  she  said,  "Shall  I  over  seo 
Cardinal  Acton  again  ?" 

"  So  you  intend,"  raid  his  Emiii»nce  playfully,  "  that 
I  am  to  die  in  my  pri  wn  ?" 

**  No,"  said  she,  smiling,  **  but  perhaps  you  will  b* 
made  Pope." 

**  Had  the  case  been  otherwise  likely,"  said  the  Cardi* 
na],  "  I  have  made  it  impossible.  The  Conclave  oould 
not  elect  the  native  of  a  heretical  country." 

**  But  your  Eminence  is  also  a  Neapolitan,"  said  she. 

**  That  is  exactly  the  question  to  which  1  refer,"  replied 
the  CardinaL  **  It  was  necessary  that  I  should  declare 
myself  of  one  or  the  oUier  country,  and  I  declared  my 
Bclf  an  Englishman."  His  Eminence  then  gave  her  the 
minutest  details  of  the  mode  of  election,  >  '  while  she 
listened  with  deep  interest  the  Reverend  ..secretary  en« 
tered,  bringing  to  the  Cardinal,  among  other  papers,  the 
newly  issued  summer  quarter  of  the  Devotion  of  the 
Forty  Hours*  Adoration,  bound  expressly  fcr  the  Cardi 
nals,  in  crimson  and  gold.  His  Eminence,  as  he  took 
the  book,  presented  it  as  a  farewell  keepsake  to  his  Re> 
ligious  friend,  and  she,  devoutly  kissing  it,  soon  after 
received  his  blessing  and  withdrew 

During  the  mid-day  repose  of  the  Sundiy  following 
Ihe  two  Itoligious  and  tlioir  conipiUiions  were  admitted 


Mt 


BOUC  AMD  TBB  ADDKT. 


within  the  Quirinal  Palace  to  see  all  the  preparations  fof 
the  Conclave.  The  courts  and  first  flight  of  stairs  were 
strewed  with  the  sleeping  workmen,  who  had  still  some 
things  to  finish  before  evening.  The  pious  Master  of  the 
Locanda,  who  was  with  the  visitors,  had  been  over  tho 
palace  on  such  occasions,  and  described  everything  most 
accurately.  Hie  chief  scene  rf  interest  was  of  course 
the  Chapel,  of  so  many  historical  recollections,  and  now 
ugain  fitted  up  for  another  vivid  scene  of)  perhaps,  un- 
paralleled emotion.  They  were  made  to  observe  the 
dais  over  each  Cardinal's  throne,  and  the  cord  and  pulley 
by  which,  when  the  election  is  made,  his  Eminence  lowers 
his  dais  in  token  of  submission  to  the  new  Pope,  whose 
canopy  alone  remains  suspended.  They  particularly  ob- 
served the  stove  where  the  papers  of  each  day  are  burned 
towards  evening,  the  narrow  iron  chimney  of  which  is 
protruded  through  the  front  wall  of  the  palace,  and  gives 
the  signal  to  those  without  whether  the  election  be  de. 
ferred  or  terminated.  If  no  smoke  appear  the  public 
conclude  that  the  last  day's  votes  are  satisfactory,  and  the 
Pope  elected.  After  silently  praying  in  that  memorable 
spot,  our  party  left  the  Chapel  of  the  Conclave,  and 
passed  through  long  suites  of  rooms  fitted  up  as  tempo. 
rary  chapels,  containing  each,  generally,  three  or  five 
altars,  that  each  Cardinal,  and  also  their  attendant  eccle- 
liiastics,  may  daily  oflbr  the  Adorable  Sacrifice.  The 
next  sight  was  the  cell  "  No.  41,'*  which  the  elder  Reli* 
gious  desired,  in  most  willing  obedience,  to  visit  It  was 
composed  of  three  small,  but  comfortable  rooms,  and 
close  to  tho  scene  of  action,  the  Chapel :  but  on  looking 
»t  the  title  over  the  door,  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Michens 


ROm  AHD  TBI   ABBCr. 


1C8 


doan  of  the  Sacrnd  College,  not  Cardinal  Acton,  was  the 
destined  occupant  of  that  commodious  cell !  How  wa« 
that?  Oh!  it  was  because  Cardinal  Michera  was  old 
and  heavy,  and  his  lot  had  fidlen  on  a  cell  in  the  upper 
corridor,  less  commodious,  and  difficult  of  access.  It 
was  sufficient  to  the  generous  and  self-denying  Cur'Jnal 
Acton  to  know  this,  and  the  exchange  of  cells  was  made. 
'Our  visitors  then  begged  to  be  conducted  U>  xle  cell 
which  his  Eminence  was  actually  to  occupy,  and  entered 
it  with  increased  respect  and  interest.  It  was  just  opp> 
site  the  Noviciate  College  of  the  Society  of  Jesus. 

On  their  return  to  their  rooms  in  their  present  hocie 
they  found  the  Princesses  and  Lord  Elverton,  who  at 
separate  times  in  the  morning  Lid  conducted  their  parties 
over  the  Quirinal  Palace,  now  consulting  about  the  event 
of  fiiat  evening. 

"  Geraldine,"  said  Lord  Elverton ;  "  should  you  not 
like  to  see  the  entrance  of  the  Cardinals  into  the  Con* 
clave  1    It  is  a  solemn  sight." 

"  If  they  walk,"  replied  she;  "but  the  Princess  tcUfi 
me  that  so  great  is  the  popular  excitement  in  favour  of 
Cardinal  Michera,  the  Fnuiciscan  Bishop  of  Froscoti, 
that  their  Eminences  are  to  be  conveyed  in  carriageii 
from  the  church  of  St.  Silvester  to  the  Quirinal  Palace." 

**  Oh  1"  whispered  Lilia  eagerly :  **  which  is  the 
church  ?  where  does  it  stand  ?    May  I  go  1" 

*'  You  have  frequently  passed  it,"  said  the  Princras. 
"  It  is  in  the  narrow  end  of  the  piazza,  distant  from  the 
Palace,  and  attached  to  it  is  a  convent  occupied  by  Mis* 
sionary  Priests.  As  I  can  have  oocess  to  the  raised 
garden  opposite  for  myself  and  the  ladies  in  my  suitc^ 
7* 


154 


ROMS   AND  nu   ABBKT. 


I  will  include  you  with  the  permission  of  the  Reverend 
Mother  Paula." 

"  Oh !  how  good  of  your  Excellency,"  said  the  delighted 
Lilia.  "  And  why  do  the  Cardinals  go  specially  to  that 
little  church?" 

"  The  Cardinals,"  said  Dom  Pietro,  "  assemble  in  thb 
ehuroh  of  St  Silvester,  from  its  convenient  position. 
Thoy  ti.tie  make  their  first  invocation  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
with  other  prayers,  after  which  commences  the  only  walii 
ever  tok<'u  by  Cardinals  in  the  open  squares  or  streets  of 
Rome.  This  rarety  adds  to  the  solemnity  of  the  pro- 
cession. All  are,  or  ought  to  be,  in  mediution  on  the 
great  work  they  have  in  hand,  and  praying  for  purity  of 
motive  in  their  votes." 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  that  Sunday,  the  I4th 
of  June,  1846,  the  ancred  College  of  Qirdinals  assembled 
in  the  above-meut'uned  church,  and,  after  the  accustomed 
devotions,  their  Eminences  were  driven  rapidly  in  their 
respective  carriages  to  the  Quirinal  Palace,  uid  were 
walled  up  from  the  public.  As  it  had  been  so  uni- 
ver=r,lly  believed  that  the  difficulty  of  coming  oonacien- 
tiousl}'  to  a  unanimous  decision  would  prol(Hig  the  Con- 
clave to  many  weeks,  if  not  months,  it  may  be  supposed 
that  people  were  disposed  to  turn  their  minds  to  other 
subjects,  and  our  Religious  Pilgrim,  after  arranging  to 
•ay  daily  with  her  companions  one  of  the  hymns  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  had  by  the  Tuesday  evemng  returned 
quietly  to  her  prescribed  writing,  when  the  little  bell 
suspended  to  her  trellis  in  the  parlour  ringing  ftnioualy, 
•nd  without  a  pause,  aroused  her  to  some  alarm,  eap» 
chUly  as  sbo  be^rd  the  voice  of  her  young  brother  call- 


none  AND  nil  adbit. 


mf 


Ing  to  her  by  every  name  and  title  she  had  ever  po» 
sessed  in  the  world  or  in  the  Convent  Some  aoeiden* 
or  calamity  to  their  father  was  the  first  thought,  and 
hastenuig  to  the  trellis,  she  exclaimed,  after  the  usual 
pious  greeting,  "  Oh,  Ferdinand,  what  can  you  mean  I** 
But  the  nearly  breathless  boy  could  still  only  repeat 
the  words,  "  No  smoke — ^no  smoke !" 

"  Do  you  really  mean,"  said  she,  "that  theConchive 
have  elected  the  new  Popel" 

"  I  do— I  do,"  cried  he,  recovering  his  brcftlh.  "  We 
all  were  up  at  Monte  Cavallo,  watci.hig  for  the  smoke  of 
the  burned  votes  to  come  forth  frc:"i  Cie  iron  funnel,  as 
it  did  yesterday  evening,  and  it  was  full  holf-an-hour  past 
the  time  before  any  one  there  could  dare  believe  any- 
thing so  extraordinary :  but  then  people  looked  at  each 
other,  and  began  to  nod  and  shrug,  and  rub  their  hands, 
and  the  Ecclesiastics  began  to  group  together;  and  on 
Papa's  asking  one  of  them  if  the  thing  were  possible  1 
he  replied  that  all  things  were  possible  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  that  he  fiilly  believed  the  election  was  made. 
Then  off  I  scampered,  and  have  scarcely  stopped  till 
now,  that  I  might  be  the  first  to  tell  you  the  news,  the 
good  news  of  a  new  Pope,  and  the  poor  Cardinals' 
release  from  their  prison." 

Ferdinand  received  the  expected  thanks,  and  having 
borrowed  t  fim  from  Lilia,  sat  &nning  himself  till 
more  news  true  and  folse,  were  brought  in  by  the 
difierent  hinjates  of  the  Locanda  to  the  reception-room 
of  the  Religious.  The  first  was  that  CardimU  Giati  was 
elected,  for  that  he  was  the  only  very  small  CardiuaJ, 
and  the  Reverend  Sacristan  had  not  pnrvided  the  x» 


^^ 


IM 


BOMI   AND  TU   AOBIT. 


quired  white  soutane  amall  enough,  and  hi  d  sent  in  aU 
haste  for  one  the  proper  size. 

"  Oh,"  said  some  one  present,  "  then  there  is  still  in« 
tercourse  held  between  those  within  and  those  without 
the  Palace  ?" 

"  Vc3,'*  said  Ferdinand, who  had  Icarnid  all  the  defalla, 
and  was  now  proud  to  show  oil'  his  knowledge,  especially 
to  Lilia :  "  Yes,  there  ore  the  '  turns,'  just  like  the  strictest 
Monastery,  loto  the  Sacristies,  and  into  the  kitchens,  and 
every  Cardinal  l>as  hit:  dinner  sent  to  him  daily  from  his 
own  palace,  by  his  o~.vn  servants  in  their  state  liveries. 
I  saw  our  own  C'.irdinal's  dinner  on  its  way  to  him 
yesterday,  in  a  sort  of  palanquin.  I  recognised  the 
liveries  of  crimson  and  white.  But  this  dinner  hod,  like 
every  other  one,  to  pass  through  the  '  turn,'  into  the 
kitchen  of  inspection,  where  every  chicken  or  bird  of 
any  sort  is  cut  open,  to  see  if  any  letter  or  writing  has 
been  put  inside,  and  all  the  different  pastries  and  rolls  of 
bread  are  likewise  cut  about,  till  their  Eminences  get 
each  a  cold  and  mangled  dinner.  And  in  the  same  way, 
if  anything  has  been  omitted  for  the  use  of  the  Chapels, 
the  Sacristan  may  send  for  it  by  speaking  at  the  '  turn;* 
but  every  thing  that  comes  into  the  Sacristy  js  inspected 
in  the  same  way,  particularly  if  it  be  lined  or  trimmed." 

Madame  Julie  now  entered,  with  doubts  of  its  being 
Cardinal  Gizzi,  as  Dom  Pietro  had  informed  them  that 
the  Reverend  Sacristan,  being  obliged  to  provide  three 
aizes  of  the  Papal  Soutane,  must  seild  for  whichever  size 
Is  missing,  and  could  no  more  ascertain  than  themselves 
who  the  new  Pope  was,  as  no  one  in  the  Palace  can  in* 
trude  on  the  secrets  of  the  Conclave.    It  was  expected 


SOm  Ain>  TOB  ABBIT. 


Ill 


(hat  the  pi-oclsmation  would  take  place  early  on  tlio  fol 
lowing  morning,  and  the  Princess,  whose  drawing-room 
was  full  of  Ecclesiastics,  sent  her  affectionate  salutationa 
by  Madame  Julie,  and  wished  to  know  what  the  Revo* 
rend  Mothers  would  resolve  to  do  1 

Lilia  could  contain  her  silent  subordination  no  longer. 

"Oh I  c*"  course  you  will  be  present,  Reverend  Mo- 
ther," cried  she  ;  "  you  mu$t  go,  you  must  witness  that 
scene !  And  even  Si^^tcr  Agnes  longs  to  go.  She  haa 
just  said  that  there  is  nothing  lately  she  has  wished  for 
■o  much.  Now  do  not  pull  my  sleeve,  Sister  Agnes, 
for  you  did  say  so." 

"  You  may  well  say  '»»«/»/,'"  said  the  Religious—"  • 
word,  Lilia,  I  never  heard  from  you  before ;  for  I  am 
under  obedience  to  go  to  the  Piazza  on  Muiite  Cavallo, 
and  to  take  you  all.  The  good  Master  of  the  house 
knows  this,  and  has  assured  me  that  whenever  the  event 
should  take  place,  he  would  mention  that  we  were  to  be 
present,  and  that  the  various  Ecclesiastics  in  th^-  house 
would  surround  us.  I  arranged  this  in  preference  to 
having  application  made  for  us  to  obtain  seats  in  the 
windows  of  the  few  houses  near ;  because  I  remember 
well,  during  my  sight-seeing  days  in  Rom&  some  yeara 
ago,  tue  lutter  and  the  chattering  at  palace-windows 
and  what  are  called  "  reserved  scats." 

The  next  person  who  entered  the  sitting-room  was  the 
<u8t-mentioned  pious  Conductor  of  the  Locanda,  who 
came  to  state  that  he  had  been  faithful  to  his  word ;  and 
that  the  Priests  and  Religious  Men  lodging  in  the  house, 
including  the  venerable  Father  from  La  Trappe,  would, 
with  himself,  take  their  station  around  the  chairs  secured 


,/ 


/■; 


Ji^ 


,^- 


V 


IM 


MMn  Awo  vm  kwitwf. 


for  the  Religious  Ladies.     He  had  only  to  request 
they  would  bo  ready  by  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

**  I  shall  come  with  you,  Sister,  if  I  may,"  said  Ferdi- 
nand, "  and  1  will  tell  my  father  so  to-night.  I  believe 
he  is  going  to  take  mamma  and  Letitia  to  one  of  thoso 
▼ery  palace-windows,  crammed  full  of  ladies.  I  dare  say 
they  will  bo  very  glad  to  know  that  I  am  safe  with  you, 
and  he  will  join  us  if  ho  can." 

*'  And  what  shall  I  tell  the  Princess  ?"  said  Madam  Julie. 

"  Tell  hor  Excellency,  with  many  thanks,  the  humble 
arrangement  we  have  made  to  be  in  the  crowd,  but  well 
protected,"  said  the  Religious.  "  And  now,  dear  Ferdi- 
nand," added  she,  "you  had  better  go  down  to  yourovm 
rooms,  and  ask  leave  of  your  fiither  to  be  with  us,  if  you 
wish  this ;  because  you  well  know  he  does  not  like  that 
permission  should  bo  asked  for  anything  ju.^t  at  the  lost 
moment." 

"  Cousin  Lilio,"  said  Ferdinand,  "  you  will  want  your 
great  Roman  fan  to-morrow ;  so  I  will  keop  it  for  you. 
You  must  not  fan  yourself  at  your  night-pray«i%  70a 
Goodnight.*' 


mom  Ain>  tbb  abut. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

r^lk  MW  ths  oae0,  aBd  Lovaww  tk«  Man, 
Both  to  naito  with  Hop*  in  Um  Almiichtjr'i  plu 

0»  Wednesday,  the  17th  of  June,  1846,  our  Enc^ial 
party  arose  at  half-paat  four  in  the  morning,  were  in  ths 
«hurch  of  the  Gesft  at  five,  and,  after  remaining  for  Holy 
Moss,  Communion,  and  Thanksgiving,  returned  to  the 
Locanda  to  secure  a  light  brealcfast  before  proceeding, 
with  Monsieur  B.  for  their  escort,  to  that  spot  on  the 
Piazza  di  Monte  Cavallo,  which,  after  mature  deliberation 
and  experience,  he  had  judged  the  most  lilcely  to  unite 
every  advantage.  The  chairs  immediately  around  them 
bad  been  secured  for  the  Reverend  Gentlemen,  who  had 
engaged  to  remain  near  the  Religious  Ladies;  but  m 
they  did  not  mind  making  their  way  through  the  crowd, 
they  were  not  yet  on  the  appointed  spot  Ferdinand  had 
to  wait  for  his  father,  who  wished  to  know  exactly  where 
his  daughter  was  placed  before  he  should  escort  Lady 
Elverton  to  her  seat  in  Palazzo  Ruspigliosi ;  and  not  till 
Ferdinand's  anxiety  and  impatience  had  made  some 
havook  in  Lilia's  &n,  did  he  get  Lord  Elverton  ^rly  up 
the  hill,  and  after  some  search  seated  on  a  vacant  chair 
near  the  desired  objects  of  their  walk. 

"  This  isvery  good,"  sud  his  Lordship,  looking  around 
him :  "  you  will  have  no  mm,  you  are  quiet,  and  nothing 
can  impede  your  view.  The  only  penalty  you  must  pay, 
k  the  waiting  in  one  place;  out  that  is  scarcely  any 


KOUS   Ain>  TBB   ADBKT. 

•n&oyancc  to  women,  above  all  to  Nuns, 
have  you  been  here  ?" 

"  Just  an  hour,"  replied  his  daughter. 

"  And  you  will  probably  have  to  wait  just  two  hours 
more,"  said  his  Lordship,  smiling ;  "  but  there  will  be 
many  subjects  of  meditation  for  yourself  and  your  little 
Baii  t  Agnes  there,  who  must  not  forget  to  pray  hard 
dunng  these  two  hours." 

"  But  the  election  is  made,"  said  Sister  Agnes ;  "■  and, 
I  suppose,  miraculously." 

"  We  all  priva^«ly  suppose  the  election  to  be  made," 
eaid  Lord  Elverton  ;  "  but  do  you  see  the  window  walled 
up  fhat  usually  conducts  to  the  balcony  in  front  of  the 
Palace  1  Do  you  also  observe  that  point  of  interest, 
Geraldine  V 

"  Yes,"  replied  she,  "  I  know  that  I  am  to  fix  my  eyes 
on  that  object." 

"  And  until^"  said  his  Lordship,  "  we  see  the  point  of 
a  pick-axe  protruding  from  within  to  commence  the  break 
ing  through  this  tempoi'ary  wall,  we  are  not  permitted 
publicly  and  officially  to  believe  that  the  new  Pope  is 
elected." 

"  What  a  moment  of  excitement  that  will  be  to  all  this 
tut  assembling  population,"  she  observed. 

"  And  succeeded,"  said  Lord  Elverton, "  by  one  emo- 
tion after  another,  as  you  will  find.  I  have  once  before 
been  present  at  the  proclamation  of  the  new  Father  ot 
the'  Faithful,  and  know  nothing  to  be  compared  to  it, 
unless  it  may  be  the  return  of  the  Holy  Fatlv  r  to  the 
City,  after  banishment  or  imprisonment,  as  took  place  in 
the  days  of  good  old  Pius  the  Seventh." 


^T^ -— 


h. 


UOMX  ARD  THI   ABBIT. 


lei 


Hew  lonf 


two  hours 
•re  will  be 
your  little 
pray  hard 


los; 


-and, 


be  mode," 
low  walled 
ront  of  the 
3f  interest, 

IX  my  eye« 

he  point  of. 
^  the  break 
i  permitted 
jw  Pope  is 

B  to  all  tUs 

y  one  omo- 
once  before 
<r  Father  ot 
tared  to  it, 
itK  r  to  the 
>ok  place  in 


**  And  there,  Sister,"  said  Ferdinand,  "  cloae  by  th« 
Walled-up  window,  is  the  fvmous  iron  funnel,  «)r  chimney, 
which  was  so  eagerty  watched  yesterday  evening,  but 
which  now  we  care  for  no  longer." 

"  I  must  be  faithful  to  my  appointment  with  Beatrice," 
Haid  his  Lordship,  rising ;  "  and  I  have  but  little  hope  of 
returning,  unless  I  can  foil  in  the  rear  of  one  of  the  Riew 
ligious  processions  on  their  return  from  the  Palace. 
They  will  pass  close  by  you.  Thes>e  Religious  process 
sions  go  up  daily  to  the  Pulace  during  the  Conclave, 
chaunting  the  hymn  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  '  Veni  Creator 
Spiritus,'  and  inquire  whether  the  election  be  made.  If 
the  reply  be  in  the  negative,  they  return  chaunting  the 
same  hymn :  but,  if  the  reply  be  that  the  new  Pope  is 
elected,  then  they  come  forth  chaunting  the  '  Te  Deum 
laudamus;'  and  the  people  listen  eagerly  to  ascertain 
which  it  is  the  Monks  on  their  return  are  chaunting." 

"Then  we  shall  know  the  fact  publicly,"  said  the  Re* 
ligious,  "  even  betbre  the  wall  is  broken  through  ?" 

"  If  the  procession,  of  whatever  order  it  be,  happen  to 
arrive  at  an  opportune  moment,  that  is,  a  few  instants 
before  the  proclamation  on  the  balcony,  the  officials 
w^ithin  the  Palace  are  permitted  to  reveal  the  fact  of  the 
election.  Now,  farewell !  When  we  meet  again,  it  will 
be,  please  God,  to  congratulate  each  other  on  the  event 
of  to-day." 

While  Lord  Elverton  had  been  relating  the  above* 
mentioned  details  to  the  two  Religious,  the  good  old 
Master  of  the  Locanda  Itad  been  entertaining  Lilia  and 
Lucy  in  the  same  manner,  tog'jther  with  several  of  the 
Fi-end)  and  Irish  EcclesiaHticxs  of  hia  house,  who  had  now 


■IH 


16S  xntx  ksv  xui  abbst. 

oolleoted  on  tlie  appointed  apot,  bnd  to  whom  tlie  soene 
WM  quite  novel.    The  Piaua  was  now  apparentlj  no 
densely  orowded,  that  it  would  be  a  matter  of  extrema  dif- 
ficulty, if  not  impossibility,  for  the  Beligious  processions 
to  pass :  but,  oh !  the  elasticity  of  a  Koman  crowd !  Be- 
hold !  an  avenue  imperceptibly  made  through  the  centre 
of  the  Piana,  and  the  tirst  arrived  prooersion,  composed 
of  Franciscan  Friars,  now  solemnly  wending  their  way 
into  the  court  of  the  Quirinal  Palace.   Other  processions 
followed  at  the  intervals  of  ton  minutes  and  quarters  of 
hours :  still  they  returned  ohaunting  the  same  hymn  of 
invocation,  and  when  the  last  procession,  composed  of 
ihe  parish  priesto  of  Borne,  in  surplices  and  stoles, 
passed  and  repassed,  still  imploring  instead  of  rejoicing, 
«  murmnr  ran  thronghout  the  Piazsa  that  som-  hing 
was  the  matter.  Was  the  new  Fupe  ill  ?  Was  he  d^ad  ? 
The  uneasiness  increased ; — when,  in  the  midst  of  this 
disappointment  and  alarm,  suddenly  cries  of  joy  were 
heard :  the  sounds  had  been  distinguished,  and  soon  ap- 
peared the  point  of  the  friendly  pick-axe,  announcing  that 
the  wall  was  being  broken  through,  and  theFope  about 
to  be  proclaimed.     In  a  few  instants  the  door-wny  was 
made,  and  Cardinal  Miohora,  Uean  of  the  Banrud  College 
of  Cardinals,  and  idol  of  the  people,  preceded  by  the 
cross,  and  accompanied  by  other  Cardinals  and  attendant 
priests,  came  forth  on  the  balcony  to  announce  in  a  dis- 
tinct and  sonorous  voice,  to  Rome  and  to  the  world,  that 
Cardinal  Mastai  had  been  el<»cted  Sovereign  Pontiff  and 
Ohrist's  Vicar  on  earth  under  ihe  name  of  Pius  the  Ninthl 
This  announcement,  this  name  of  "  Pio  None,"  which 
afterwards  became  a  talisman  to  win  the  hearto  of  his 


KOMX  AHS  TBB  ABBKT. 


18) 


the  leene 
larontly  mo 
ttremadif- 
)roce88ions 
irowd!  Be- 

the  centte 
,  coaipo»ed 
;  their  way 
procoasions 
quartan  of 
le  hymn  of 
tmpomd  of 
and  «tolM, 
nf  rejoioing, 

Bom-  bing 
ashei^d? 
lidnt  of  this 
of  joy  were 
tnd  soon  ap- 
:)UQciogtbat 
iFope  about 
jor-wny  waa 
nrod  College 
ieded  by  the 
nd  attendant 
noe  in  a  dia> 
i  world,  that 
I  Pontiff  and 
lit  the  Ninth! 
?ono,"  which 
hearts  of  his 


people  to  an  enthusiasm  almost  unparallelled,  was  in  ths 
first  instance  heard  with  indifference,  if  not  disappoint 
ment.  The  multitude  present  would  have  preferred  him 
who  had  made  the  proclamation ;  but  he,  exercisiug  the 
influence  he  possessed  over  them,  waved  hid  white  hand- 
kerchief, bidding  them  exclaim  "  Viva  Pio  Nono !"  Then 
for  the  first  time  was  that  name  sounded  forth  on  the 
Quirinal  Hill ;  the  Cardinal  Count  Mastai  had  actually 
become  their  Father  and  their  Sovereign,  and  the  stiL 
pious  and  loyri  Roman  people  soon  felt  and  expressed 
their  joy  and  fidelity,  and  became  clamorous  to  see  the 
Pope.  In  a  short  time  their  desires  were  gratified,  Pius 
the  Nhith  appeared,  and  received  a  burst  of  welcome 
from  the  multitude ;  while  he,  fiill  of  emotion,  wept  and 
blessed  alternately. 

Two  more  interesting  ceremonies  took  place  that  day, 
to  one  of  which  Lilia  was  taken,  and  Lucy  to  the  other. 
One  was  the  solemn  passing,  from  the  Quirinal  Palace 
to  that  of  the  Vatican,  of  the  new  Pope  in  hb  carriage 
of  state — ^the  other  his  arrival  and  reception  at  St  Peter's, 
and  his  receiving  the  homage  of  the  Cardinals,  being 
seated  on  the  altar  Th's  last-mentioned  ceremony, 
whid)  can  be  witnessed  but  once,  was  the  one  to  which 
Lilia  was  taken  by  the  Princesses. 

During  the  evening  these  kind  friends  accompanied  tho 
Bishop  and  Dom  Pietro,  who  came  to  give  the  Rcligioiu 
the  various  anecdotes  respecting  the  new  Pontiff,  which 
had  already  spread  over  the  city  in  which  he  had  been 
onoe  well  known  and  beloved ;  and  in  which  it  was  now 
the  emulation  of  all  to  lemember  and  record,  not  <mly 
hir  talents  and  virtues,  but  the  extraordbary  fiuits  of  hit 


rtmm 


MMWWHUMiHMMMHUl 


•«« 


ROMS   AND  TDK    \BBKT. 


:•': 


mny  life ;  and  Iho  Bishop  requested  Doin  Pictro  to  rclaM 

these  consecutively  to  the  English  Keligious,  which  he 

did  as  follows: — "The  Count  Mastai   made   his  Arst 

studies  in  the  Roman  Seminary,  where  it  a'bs  rcmariced 

of  him,  that  although  of  a  mild  and  sweet  vUsiiosition,  he 

was  always  the  leader  of  his  companions.     At  the  proper 

ago  his  family  made  interest  for  his  being  admitUid  into 

the  Royal  Body  Guard,  which  are  here  called  '  la  Guardia 

Nobile,'  from  its  being  composed  solely  of  noblemen.   On 

account  of  his  epileptic  (ita  he  was  rejected  ;  and  he,  look- 

ing  on  this  rejection  as  a  call  from  God  totltink  of  a  more 

devout  life,  resolved  to  ent-jr  the  severe  Order  of  the 

Passionists.     Here  also,  on  account  of  the  same  infirmity, 

he  was  rejected.    Much  afflicted,  he  went  to  the  then 

reigning  Pontiff,  the  holy  Pius  the  Seventh,  by  whom  he 

was  much  beloved.     His  Holiness  de&ired  him  to  enter 

the  Church,  and  raising  his  hand  gradually,  added, '  e  poi 

— e  poi — e  poi  * !'    One  account  is,  that  in  that  interview 

the  young  Count  made  a  vow  that  if  his  fits  were  cured 

ho  would  enter  the  Church ;  another  version  is  that  Pius 

tl»c  Seventh  laid  his  hand  on  his  head,  assuring  him  they 

would  never  return.    These  facts,  however,  are  udmtltcd 

by  all,  that  from  this  interview  the  flte  entirely  left  him. 

that  he  continued  bis  studies,  and  became  a  priest  full  of 

zeal  and  heroic  charity  ;  serving  the  hospitals,  venturing 

into  the  most  noisome  receptacles  during  the  raging  of 

the  cholera,  and  frequently  carrying  the  sick  or  the  dead 

on  his  shoulders  cither  to  the  hospital  or  for  interment. 

The  first  public  institution  ho  was  placed  over  in  Rome 

was  the   one   for  indigent  infant,  boys,   called    "  Tatta 

•  "^d  tban—Mid  then— aud  tbent" 


•i'^mt; 


KOm  AXO  TBI  ABBIT. 


18« 


Giovanni  *,'  from  its  fbuni!er.  He  was  tlicn  sent  with  a 
Cardinal  Nuncio  to  Americi ;  then  rec«lled  to  be  made 
Archbishop  of  Spoletto ;  then  translated  to  the  disaffected 
diocess  of  Imola,  where  he  displayed  his  great  talent  for 
government ;  then  made  Cardinal ;  and  lastly  Pope. 
Hius  has  Almighty  God,  through  early  disappointment 
and  humiliation,  accomplished  his  designs  on  his  servant, 
and  notwithstanding  the  young  nobleman's  wishes — first 
to  be  a  soldier,  then  a  monk,  has  raised  him  to  the  highest 
station  on  the  earth !" 

"  Well !  this  is  most  interesting,"  exclaimed  Madtune 
Julie,  who  had  entered  in  time  to  hear  the  wh  jle  his- 
tr  ry :  "  and  what  age  is  oiur  hero  now  1" 

"  His  Holiness  Pius  the  Ninth  is  just  fifty-two,"  re- 
plied Dom  Pietro. 

"Tliat  is  young  foi  a  Pope," said  Madame  Julie; 
*'  and  the  people  seem  enchanted  to  get  one  in  apparently 
still  the  vigour  of  manhood.  One  of  the  servants  of  this 
house,  who  took  care  of  Lucy  and  me  in  the  crr'wd,  ne< 
ver  ceased  repeating,  with  hysterical  cries  of  joy,  '  Non 
i  vecchlo — ^non  i  vecchio !'  "f 

A  few  days  after  the  release  from  the  Conclave,  our 
Religious  Pilgrim  was  admitted  to  an  audience  of  her 
Lord  Cardinal  Protector,  and,  in  passing  through  the 
ante-rooms,  met  the  amiable  mother  of  his  Eminence 
with  more  care  than  usual  on  her  sweet  countenance, 
which,  more  youthful  than  his  own,  was  generally  ftill 
of  placid  content  In  return  for  the  oongr&tulationa 
«fl^d  that  her  son  was  restored  to  her,  the  reply  waa^ 


•  OaMr  John 

I  "  ito  ii  But  old-lM  ia  Mt  oM." 


vm 


BOIU   AND  THS   ABBKT. 


if. 


"  Yes !  but  he  is  so  ill !" — and  while  the  Religious 
liateninff,  full  of  sympathy  and  alarm,  the  Cardinal  apt 
peared,  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand,  and,  after  giving 
her  and  her  Spanish  friend  his  blessing,  told  them  to  go 
forward  to  his  library,  and  that  he  would  soon  be  with 
them.  When  his  Eminence  re-appeared  he  did  look 
hectic  and  still  thinner ;  but  he  rallied,  and  seemed  pleased 
to  speak  of  the  choice  which  Heaven  had  made  in  Pius 
the  Ninths  Our  Religious  then  relating  the  anxiety 
which  the  assembled  people  had  felt  on  Monte  Cavallo; 
from  the  great  delay  in  proclaiming  the  Pope,  the  Car- 
dinal said  that  it  had  arisen  from  the  indisposition  of  his 
Holiness,  caused  by  the  too  great  emotion  of  the  pre- 
vious day.  ^  Do  you  remember,"  said  his  Eminence, 
**  what  I  described  to  you  of  the  three  Cardinals,  who 
each  day  wre  chosen  afresh  to  make  the  scrutiny  of  the 
votes  1" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Religious,  "I  remember  every- 
thing which  your  Eminence  has  been  good  enough  to  re- 
late to  me." 

"  On  that  day,"  continued  the  Cardinal,  "  it  fell  to  tho 
lot  of  Cardinal  Mastai^  supported  by  two  others,  to 
count  the  votes,  which  he  did  with  a  firm  voice,  mitil,  his 
own  BMne  oeourrhig  so  often  that  he  foirad  two-thirds  of 
tlie  sufihtges  to  be  his,  he  paused,  and  his  hand  shook  so 
mueh  that  Cardinal  Patriizi,  who  was  one  of  his  support- 
ers, held  it  and  the  papers.  Cardinal  Mastai  then  re» 
flised  to  continue  reading,  and  proposed  that  the  Con- 
clave should  proceed  to  a  fresh  scrutiny ;  but,  by  a  ri> 
multaniH)us  movement,  all  we  other  Crurdinals  drew  tbn 
flTTds  which  support  the  dais  over  each  throne,  his  alone 


Bom  AND  nu  ABBSr. 


1«T 


(linai  ap> 
er  giving 
em  to  go 
1  be  with 
did  look 
d  pleased 
,e  in  PiuB 
I  anxiety 
}  Cavallo,' 
I,  the  Car- 
aon  of  his 
'  the  pro- 
Smincnce, 
inals,  who 
Iny  of  tbo 

»er  every- 
»ugh  to  re- 

fell  to  tho 
others,  to 
B,  luttil,  his 
o-thirib  of 
d  shook  so 
is  support- 
fti  then  re> 
kt  theCon- 
iit,  by  »  ri> 
Is  drew  thn 
e,  his  alone 


remaining,  and  exclaimed,  'Viva  il  Papal'  Cardinal 
Mastai,  or  rather  the  new  Pope,  then  became  so  much 
agitated  that  we  feared  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  head.  He 
was  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  nervous  suffering,  and  we 
■had  not  a  drop  of  cold  water  to  give  him.  We  altoge* 
ther  made  such  a  noise,"  added  Cardinal  Acton,  smiling, 
"  that  it  was  impossible  for  those  without  not  to  discover 
that  we  had  finished  the  Conclave ;  yet  we  dared  nol 
open  the  door.  At  length  the  Pope  revived,  and  ex- 
claimed,  '  It  is  the  will  of  God,'  and  then  added,  '  Oh, 
holy  soul  of  Plus  the  Seventh,  who  predicted  this  to  me, 
protect  me !' " 

When  the  Cardinal  had  finished  this  recital  of  an  event 
'80  interesting  to  history  and  to  the  world,  which  he  had 
given  in  the  gracefiil  and  animated  manner  peculiar  to 
him,  he  would  not  allow  that  he  was  fatigued,  and  con- 
tinued to  speak  on  subjects  of  both  public  and  private  in- 
terest, concluding  the  interview  by  desiring  the  English 
Religious  and  her  companions  to  be  present  at  most  if 
not  all  the  ceremonies  that  would  follow  the  elevation  of 
Pius  the  Ninth  to  his  present  dignity. 

Hie  first  High  Mass  sung  by  the  new  Pope  in  St.  Pe- 
ter's was  the  next  event  of  interest  to  the  Romans ;  and 
greatly  astonished  were  some  sober  English  priests  at 
the  delight  with  which  those  of  Rome,  with  their  musical 
genius  and  warm  hearts,  first  heard  and  applauded  the 
sonorous  tones  and  exquisite  pathos  with  which  this  high- 
ly-gifted and  highly-favoured  Vicar  of  Chriht  gave  forth 
the  sublime  prefiioe  of  the  Mass.  Our  English  Pilgrim, 
with  her  companions,  was  that  day  near  the  high  altar  in 
Bt  Peter's,  hidden  and  attentive ;  and  at  the  close  she 


ij 


168 


ROM!  AMD  THC  ABBKT. 


blessed  God,  saying,  "Behold  the  Pope  who  wiU  undj^ 
stand  and  befriend  me  t" 

After  the  High  Mass  on  that  day,  the  21st  of  June, 
1846,  Pope  Pius  the  Ninth  was  solemnly  crowned  ou 
the  balconj'  of  the  portico  of  St.  Peter's,  the  mitre  of 
Bishop  being  removed  by  the  Cardinal  Vicar,  and  <m  his 
sacred  head  being  placed  the  Hars,  or  triple  crown,  ol 
Prophet,  Priest  and  Kii^ 


I  vrillunda^ 


BOMB   AMD  THB  ABBBT. 


Lst  of  June, 
crowned  on 
ihe  mitre  of 
r,  and  on  Uh 
>le  crown,  ol 


CRAFTER  XVL 

Not  in  lb*  MtaeoBbt  tloM, 

Do  flaintt  la  Rome  iboaad : 
■ome  IWing  round  the  tianl  tkroaa^ 

Wt  hail  on  uppor  gnwnd. 

Tbb  day  oefore  the  coronation  of  Pius  the  Nu  th  our  old 
friend,  Mr.  Everard,  exerted  power  over  his  nerves  suffi* 
dent  to  mount  as  far  as  the  first  floor  of  the  pious  Lo- 
canda,  and  discover  himself  to  the  family  of  Lord  EU 
verton.  After  sitting  half  an  hour  amongst  them,  and 
wondering  withm  himself  how  he  could  have  kept  away 
so  long,  it  was  ascertained  for  him  that  two  EodesiasticB 
having  vacated  their  rooms,  and  left  Rome  immediately 
after  the  proclamation  of  the  new  Pope,  there  would  b« 
room  for  himself  and  a  servant  in  the  house.  To  this 
plan  he  consented,  although  he  did  not  relinquish  his 
apartments  in  the  Via  6regoriaIu^  and  that  very  night,  a 
happy  night  between  sleeping  and  waking,  he  was  near 
the  friends  of  his  English  life — and,  oh,  wonderful  event ! 
under  the  same  roof  with  that  "other  one,"  whon.  he 
oould  not  yet  meet  or  mention. 

Some  years  before  Mr.  Everard  had  had  an  inteiiial 
struggle,  a  struggle  that  cost  him  some  weeks  of  illness, 
before  he  could  see  Lady  Elverton,  then  Mrs.  Carring- 
ton,  filling  the  places  of  that  mother  and  that  daughter 
who  had  successively  filled  his  heart ;  but,  the  struggle 
4nex,  he  loved  her  as  the  sister  of  Don  Carlos  Dua§|0, 


'    If-  • 


170 


BOm   ARD  TBI   ABBIT. 


wid  for  his  sake,  who  had  endured  mnch  adrersity,  1m 
fiirgave  her  the  ever-increasing  prosperity  that  Bnrround- 
ed  her.  She  was  a  fiiithful  wife,  a  fond  mother,  •  pioua 
Catholic,  gentle,  graceful,  and  beautifiil }  and  tbouf^  Aa 
had  no  power  to  produce  whatever  mental  stores  she 
might  possess,  she  was  a  patient,  or  perhaps  an  apparent 
listener  to  his  ever-varied  talk.  Ferdinand  and  Letitia 
were  nearly  as  mudi  beloved  for  their  uncle's  sake  as  if 
they  had  possessed  some  blood  of  the  Sinclairs ;  and  he 
was  now  sitting  between  them,  looking  at  the  sacred  pre- 
sents made  them  since  their  coming  to  Rome,  and  de- 
bating aloud  whether  or  not  he  would  be  one  of  Lady 
Elvcrton's  escort  to  St.  Peter's  on  the  morrow,  or  go  in- 
dependently of  any  one,  save  perhaps  his  good  fiuthful 
Moss.  There  were  other  and  younger  ladies  who  gene- 
rally ibllowed  Lady  Elverton,  and  he  began  to  fear  that 
too  much  would  be  required  of  him. 

"  Well  r'  cried  he  at  last,  "  I  will  go  with  you  all  aa 
hr  as  St.  Peter's :  but  I  cannot  be  climbing  np  with  you 
ladies  over  St.  Andrew  or  St.  Longinna.  I  have  had 
that  bird's-eye  view  once.  Now  I  want  to  be  close  to 
the  scene  of  action ;  and  above  all,  I  want  to  watch  the 
countenance  of  the  Cardinals.  Sharp  fellowa,  those  Car- 
dinals !" 

On  his  return  fi-om  the  holy  function.  Lord  Elverton, 
who  delighted  in  the  characteristics  of  Mr.  Everard, 
questioned  him  respecting  the  impression  made  by  the 
countenances  of  their  Eminences,  and  he  replied  gravely, 
"I  think  they  are  very  holy  men.  There  were  particu- 
larly five  or  six  who  had  just  the  expression  which  arttsta 
•ndeavour  to  give  in  their  ideal  <^  Sainto.    I  aaw  whAt  1 


nOMI  AMO  TBI  AB*CT. 


ITI 


enity,  W 

Bvrround 

ir,  •  p>o«" 
bougk  *^ 
itorea  she 
1  appsreni 
nd  Letitia 
I  sake  K  t( 
re;  »ndhe 
8«eiedpre- 
ne,  Mid  do- 
le of  Lady 
w,  or  go  in- 
ood  fiuthful 
g  who  gene- 
to  fear  that 

I  you  all  aa 
op  with  you 
I  have  had 
Im  dose  to 
to  watch  tbo 
«,  thom  Car- 

rd  ElTerton, 
ilr.  Enrerard, 
made  by  the 
)lied  gravely, 
were  partiou- 
whioh  artista 
I  8«w  whxt  1 


Mpeeted— aoutenen  in  tlie  eye,  but  the  whole  wcnied 
more  deep  and  solid  and  humble  than  1  had  prepared 
myself  to  view.  Who  is  that  perfect  specimen  of  holy 
and  beautiful  old  age — that  chief  or  senior,  as  it  seemed, 
amurif;  them,  who  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the  throne,  and 
went  to  and  fro  so  often  fW)m  the  altar  to  the  choir  1-— 
tall,  pale,  silver-haired,  with  a  perfect  outline  of  fea- 
tures." 

"That,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  waaCardbial  Fransone 
— ^ead  of  the  Sacrod  College  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Faith." 

"Ha!  the  Propaganda  Fide.  I  must  go  there!  I 
must  ascend  and  descend  those  stairs  down  which  so 
many  holy  missionaries  have  passed  to  martyrdom !" 

"  Very  well !"  said  Lord  Elverton  ;  "  I  must  be  going 
soon  to  the  Secretary  on  business,  and  we  will  go  toge- 
ther up  and  down  those  stairs." 

"  Who  is  the  Secretary  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Everard. 

"Monsignor  Brunclli,  Archbishop  of  Thessalonica,** 
replied  his  Lordship,  "a  wonderfully  clever  and  good 
man.  But  as  there  is  an  endless  variety  amongst  the 
Saints,  you  will  find  as  great  a  contrast  as  any  lover  of 
strong  effect  could  wish,  between  his  Eminence  the  Can 
dinal  Head  and  his  Lordship  the  Secretary  of  that  im- 
mense  moral  and  spiritual  machine  the  Propaganda. 
Tbe  Lord  Cardinal  Fransone  all  meek  deliberation, 
Monsignor  Brunelli  all  zealous  action,  and  in  person  stout 
and  florid ;  the  Cardinal  in  his  suite  of  rooms  abqye,  still, 
meditative,  and  comparatively  solitary,  except  to  give 
final  deoisions  and  sign  important  papers ;  his  Lordship 
in  hir  suite  of  rooms  below-~whwe  all  ia  stir^  disouaufm^ 


I  I  vm 


112 


mm   AMD  TBI   ABBBT. 


Mid  lit-portunity-gnwiting,  denying,  postponing,  ropii 
tnonding,  oomplimenting,  accepting,  wid  consoling.  Ill* 
Cardinal  spending  hia  recreative  hours,  except  on  pub^ 
lie  day  i  of  reception,  with  his  little  birds,  of  which  he  has 
a  choice  variety,  still  In  meditative  solitude,  until  the 
hour  arrives,  which  no  wmther  or  business  ever  pre. 
vents,  for  being  driven  to  the  Benediction  Service  at  the 
church  of  tlie  Perpetual  Adoration,  the  Nuns  of  which 
convent  are  the  spiritual  daughters  of  his  Eminence." 

"  And  the  recreative  hours  of  the  Archbishop  Secre> 
tary  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Everard. 

"  They  are  doubtless  most  exemplary,"  said  Lord  El 
verton ;  *'  but  I  know  Moasignor  Brunelli  only  in  his 
public  capacity,  while  I  am  fiivoured  by  the  private  friend> 
ahip  of  the  holy  Cardinal." 

"  Well,  I  must  see  these  two  men— these  two  great 
men !"  said  Mr.  Everard. 

"  And  should  ybu  not  like,"  said  his  Lordship,  *'  to 
have  an  ihtpoduction  to  Cardinal  Mai,  that  fine  old  Mai 
—the  most,  or  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of  his  ag&— 
the  antiquary  of  the  Vatican — the  discoverer  of  vast 
Egyptian  sficrets  ?" 

''Yes,  I  must  contrive  a  little  talk  with  that  great 
man.'* 

"  And  the  Ihaumaturgus  of  huiguoges,"  said  Lord  El- 
verton,  "  the  holy  Cardinal  of  whom  so  many  witty 
things  have  been  written  and  said ;  amongst  the  rest,  that 
.be  was  ^elected  interpreter  of  Babel !" 

«  Well !  what  of  him  T  said  Mr.  Everard. 
••  Why,  here  is  one  who  can  give  you  more  details 
than  I,"  sud  Lord  Elvorton,  as  Mcmsignor  Lenti,  tha 


aom  AWS  TBI  ABBIT. 


178 


ling,  roprl. 
>ling.    Th* 
)t  on  pub- 
hichhehu 
),  until  the 
I  ever  pre« 
rvice  at  the 
IS  of  which 
linence.' 
shop  Secro- 

lid  Lord  El 
only  in  his 
rivate  friend* 

le  two  great 

ordship,  "to 

fine  old  Mai 

I  of  his  age— 

rerer  of  vast 

th  that  great 

said  Lord  El- 
many  witty 
It  the  rest,  that 

rd. 

more  details 
lor  Lenti,  tha 


English  Pilgrim's  first  Roman  friend,  entered  the  room 
to  pay  his  compliments  to  the  fitther  before  mounting 
two  pairs  of  stairs  higher  to  seek  the  daughter.  "  Mon< 
signor,  I  am  endeavouring  to  give  a  slight  and  imperfect 
sitetch  of  our  Sacred  College  of  Cardinals  to  my  good 
and  learned  friend  here,"  added  his  Lordship,  after  the 
first  compliments  had  been  exchanged. 

"  And  how  far  have  you  proceeded,  my  Lord  1*'  said 
the  benevolent  Prelate. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  describe  the  wonderfiil  gift  of 
tongues  bestowed  on  Cardinal  Mezzofante,"  stud  Lord 
Elverton,  "  but  have  forgotten  too  much.  Was  it  not 
after  the  battle  of  Marengo,  that,  as  a  humble  but  zealooa 
Missionary  Priest,  he  found  the  wounded  and  dying  of 
almost  every  country  in  Europe  brought  into  the  hospitals, 
and  that,  with  supplication  to  Heaven,  he  took  up  some 
French  or  German  dictionary  and  discovered  that  he 
learned  and  retained  everything  without  eflbrt,  and  was 
then  inspired  to  hear  the  confessions,  and  found  that  he 
could  understand  and  exhort  each  one  in  his  own  tongue  1** 

"  I  believe  all  this  to  be  quite  correct,"  said  Monsignor, 
and  the  virtues  of  the  priest  being  equal  to  the  wonders 
of  the  linguist,  he  was  raised  to  the  Cardinalate  by  our 
late  Pope  Gregory  the  Sixteenth." 

"  Many  talents  can  lie  dormant  in  persons,"  said  Mr. 
Everard,  "until  some  call  of  necessity  or  charity  bring* 
them  fbf.y  to  the  world." 

"Granted,"  said  Monsignor;  "history  and  biography 
have  taught  us  this  truth.  But  in  these  cases  there  is 
always  to  be  traced  in  the  child  and  the  youth  something 
of  the  genius  of  the  man ;  not  periiaps  in  the  hij^ 


t^'.f.tsifn  ,^:-^  -.-■■^^..-^-^^.^-. 


;.:.^aA.-2-^i.-.v^:.t..^^--.^*^.».,^^....,^->....^.^.,^ -flrtfl 


u 


lU 


BOMB  ARO  TBn  ABBBT. 


regicnB  of  thongfat — ^metsphysios  or  mathematics — ^but  ia 
tlioae  which  relate  more  to  Uie  perceptive  powers,  and 
to  intercourse  with  man." 

"  Yes,  that  ia  very  true,"  said  Mr.  Everard.  "  Saint 
Thomas  of  Aquinei,  with  bis  vast  logical  head,  was  not 
discovered  by  hii  fellow  students ;  but  a  boy  who,  siuUlow 
in  other  respects,  shall  catch  and  retain  wortis,  is  the 
admiration  of  the  classes.  And  so  this  holy  Mezzofant^ 
was  not  one  of  these  clever  boys  1  Well,  I  am  well 
pleased  to  o^m  the  mirade.  I  expect  to  find  miraculous 
nuuiifestations  everywhere  in  God's  Church,  but  more 
especially  iu  Rome,  and  I  shall  visit  this  His  servant,  if 
permitted  so  to  do,  with  awe  and  respect.  And  now, 
Monsignor,  of  all  your  Sacred  College,  to  whom  do  you 
attribute  the  greatest  sanctity  ?" 

"  Grod  alone  can  see  and  judge  the  hearts  of  His  sei- 
vants,"  replied  Monsignor  Lenti ;  "  nor  could  I  indi 
vidually  presume  to  place  one  Cardinal  above  another 
in  the  scale  of  excellence :  but  I  do  not  fear  to  report 
the  general  feeling  and  voice  of  Rome,  in  saying  that 
Girdinals  Fraosoni  and  Acton  are  recognised  to  be  her 
SNnts." 

'-'  Acton !"  repeated  Mr.  Everard  much  pleased ;  then 
added  with  a  sigh,  "  Well  done,  poor  old  England !" 

"  England,"  said  the  Prelate,  "  has  a  character  now  to 
support  in  giving  Saints  to  Rome.  Two  Cardinals  luive 
successively  borne  that  reputation,  and  a  young  and  lovely 
Princess  has  lived  and  di^d  amongst  us,  (wm  an  ancient 
and  noble  Euglish  family,  whose  eminer^t  sanctity  was 
recognised  in  Rome  by  her  remains  being  borne  in 
triumph  to  the  fiunily  chapel  in  Santa  Maria  Maggioie. 


HOWC   ANB  TBB  ABBCT. 


m 


itics — ^but  !b 
powun,  md 

rd.  "  Saint 
•ad,  was  not 
orlio,  shallow 
rortis,  19  the 
r  Mezzofante 
,  I  am  well 
1  miractrioua 
b,  but  more 
iis  servant,  if 
And  now, 
fhom  do  you 

s  of  His  sei- 
»uld  I  indl 
bove  another 
ear  to  report 
1  saying  that 
led  to  be  her 

pleased ;  then 
England!" 
uracter  now  to 
Cardinals  have 
uig  and  lovely 
rjm  MI  ancient 
i  sanctity  was 
iing  borne  in 
kfia  Maggioie. 


Yoa  are  aware,  my  Lrrd,  that  I  qieak  of  the  Lady 
Guendaline  Talbot,  Princess  Bm^ghese  T 

^  I  should  Uke  to  know  some  of  tliose  details,"  said 
Lord  Elverton. 

"  And  1,"  said  the  Prelate,  "am  nw^  bappy  to  giv« 
them."  But  before  Mons^r  t  proceeded  to  relate  those 
interesting  d  edifying  Iratts  in  the  brief  life  of  tb^ 
Lady  Guendaline,  Lord  Elverton  had  sent  for  his  little 
daughter,  that  she  might  be  edified,  and  perchance 
inspired  to  emulation  by  the  recital ;  and  Letitia  listened 
witii  fixed  attention  and  with  glowing  cheek,  how  the 
youi^  Princess,  without  departing  from  tha  claims  of  her 
nmk  and  position,  found  time  and  opportunity,  especially 
in  the  early  hours  of  the  day,  to  visit  and  console  the 
dck  and  afflicted  poor,  gladdening  their  languid  sight  by 
•  rare  beauty  sanctified  in  God's  work,  and  r»«ssuring 
their  fiiint  hearts  by  the  endearing  fiuoiliarity  and  play- 
fulness of  holy  innocence,  captivating  all  to  the  sweeti 
service  of  the  Lord.  Amongst  many  anecdotes  of  this 
loved  and  lovely  one  was  her  having  herself  fuade  a  dreaa 
for  an  old  woman,  which  concealing  beneath  her  shawl 
ahe  carried  to  the  poor  dwelling,  and  in  which  she 
equipped  her  protegee  ;  when,  discovering  tfaM  the  dress 
had  been  mode  too  long,  the  Princess  drew  forth  he? 
!r.>i/^'.nent8  of  needlework,  and  kneeling  on  the  brick 
ri<<oi-.  porformtd  that  feat  commonly  called  " running  a 
tuck"  iti  the  gown  of  tlie  old  woman,  and  achieved  the 
work  to  perfuctbn. 

Moii^i^m^r  Lcnti,  as  he  finiishod  these  anecdotes,  to 
khich  all  had  listened  with  plrased  attention,  took  hii 


-°~""~""  nr  innnf»r»i  » iMnim-iii'ii - iiitrn 


ROia  AKD  rm  abbxt. 

leave  of  the  fii-st  floor,  and  began  his  long  ascent  to  ths 
lop  of  the  house  in  search  of  his  fir^t  English  friends. 

"  Well,  it  is  clear  that  i  cannot  see  her  to-day,  as  Mon- 
rignor  is  engaging  her,"  said  Mr.  Everard  to  himself, 
■im  inwardly  relieved,  like  many  i^  nervous  man  who 
thmks  he  shall  be  braver  on  the  morrow.  "  I  cannot  see 
her  to-day,  so  Til  go  to  my  room,  and  ascertain  if  my 
books  bo  oome  from  the  Via  Gregoriana." 

The  next  day  he  felt  very  well,  and  he  determined  tn 
ascend  the  stairs.    He  would  have  mounted  with  still 
greater  courage  had  he  known  that  on  this,  for  him,  long 
postponed  day,  the  Religious  he  went  to  see  was  generally 
ttken  to  her  private  audience  with  his  Eminence  the 
English  Cardinal ;  and  accordingly,  when  he  tumeH  as 
be  tjA  been  directed  to  the  wmg  of  the  upper  »'o oi , 
wnero  was  the  outer  door  of  her  rooms,  he  felt  at  o"^i  «> 
relieved  and  annoyed  to  find  doors,  gratugs,  and  curtains 
Ail  open,  or  removed,  and  the  Italian  maid,  sided  by  Lucy, 
giving  the  weekly  sweepmg,  to  which  the  previous  daily 
attentions  of  the  broom  had  been  but  distant  preparations. 
Mr.  Everard  was  incapable  of  nourishing  dislike  to  any 
class  of  persons,  more  especially  if  of  the  gentle,  fair,  and 
devout  sex ;  but  passing  irritations,  and  half-hours  of  re- 
sentment had,  during  the  course  of  his  life,  been  more 
directed  towards  housemaids  than  to  any  body  of  peo- 
ple who  had  crossed  his  patli,  or,  worse  still,  had  put  an 
impediment  to  the  free  access  of  his  study.     "  Well !" 
would  he  say  to  the  damsels  of  Bumleigh,  those  '  pitiless 
foes  to  a  spider,'  "  What  harm  does  he  do  to  me  1    Let 
him  and  me  alone  in  our  quiet !"  when  on  some  oocasionr 
the  'hairy legged  spinner'  had  dropped  with  hit  long 


ROHE   AMP  nS  ABBir. 


m 


cent  to  tha 
i  friends, 
ay,  as  Mon- 
to  himself^ 
i  man  who 
I  cannot  see 
rtain  if  nijr 

termined  t/> 
d  with  still 
or  him,  long 
ras  generally 
minence  the 
le  turned  as 
upper  i'(.*>i, 

felt  at  ont  e 
,  and  curtains 
dedbyLucy, 
revious  daily 
preparations, 
lislike  to  any 
mtle,  fair,  and 
If-hoursofre- 
e,  been  more 
body  of  peo- 
ill,  had  put  an 
y.    "Well!" 
those  '  pitiless 

tomel  Let 
ome  occasion* 
with  his  long 


thread  of  glae  from  the  ceiling,  to  ascertain,  in  the  iipirtt 
of  adventure,  what  was  going  on  at  his  desk ;  and  now, 
scarcely  mollified  by  Felicia  kissing  his  hand,  and  Lucy 
who  knew  him,  brandishing  her  feather  duster  with  de> 
lighted  surprise,  he  demanded,  why  did  they  cause  that 
chaotic  state  on  a  Hiursday,  and  not  on  a  Saturday,  tha 
old-established  day  for  making  people  miserable  ? 

"  Because,  Sir,"  replied  Lucy,  "  my  Lady  and  tha 
others  are  out ;  but  I  can  make  you  as  snug  and  quiet  in 
a  minute,  as  if  you  were  sitting  on  Sunday  morning  with 
everything  clean  about  you,  in  your  own  study  comer  at 
Rumleigh.    Just  step  in.  Sir." 

Mr.  Everard  did  step  across  the  threshold  of  the  outer 
door,  exclaiming, "  And  now  the  Rubicon  i^  passed !"  and 
followed  Lucy  through  a  little  ante-room  ^o  the  visitors* 
reception-room,  where  she  placed  an  arui-chair  opposite 
the  only  window  that  afforded  a  good  view,  brought  a 
footstool,  and  took  away  his  hat  and  ctick,  for  he  had 
oome  up  from  his  own  room  equipped  in  due  form. 

"  And  when  do  you  expect  the  ladies  home  1"  inquired 
he. 

"  Not  this  hour,  Sir ;  for,  aftbr  leaving  the  Cardinal's 
audience,  they  were  to  go  the  Thursday  excursion  to 
some  distant  church,  witii  the  two  PrinoeiMi-s." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  wait  here  an  hour  1"  cried  Mr.  Everard, 
remembering  his  dignity.  "  I  cannot  waste  my  time  up 
here !" 

••  Why,  Sir,"  said  Lucy,  "  surely  you  can  fill  up  tha 
time,  instead  of  wasting  it,  by  meditating  on  the  '  fouf 
last  things ;'  or  you  can  say  a  third  portion  of  the  R» 
wary,  Sir;  or  I  can  fetch  you  the  Spiritual  v>>mbatt'* 


I  .F 


nt 


ROm  AMD  TBI  AWBKtt 


"  All  in  the  Purgative  way,  Lucy,"  said  he.  When 
do  you  intend  to,  admit  me  to  the  Uluminative,  and 
when  to  the  Unitivel" 

Lucy,  not  well  knowing  what  he  meant,  here  slipped 
away  to  the  completion  of  the  active  task  allotted  her, 
and  our  old  friend  sat  gaiing  during  some  minutes  over 
terraced-topped  houses,  and  through  cupolas  and  domes 
of  churehes  on  the  range  of  the  Vaniculum.    Then  be- 
ginning  again  to  feel  a  little  nervous,  he  rose,  looked  ai 
the  pious  omamento  of  the  room,  and  finding  the  trellised 
partition  had  a  door,  and  that  on  this  day  of  vigorous 
cleaning  that  door  had  been  left  unlocked  and  ajar,  he 
threw  it  open,  found  himself  greatly  attracted  towards 
that  inner  parlour,  and  after  an  insf  nt  or  two  of  doubt, 
saying  to  himself  "  It  in  no  cell— it  is  o.>ly  a  parlour,   h« 
entered,  and  was  amongst  the  private  pursuits,  and,  as  he 
felt  it,  the  private  thoughts  of  the  owner.    In  spite  of 
his  pique  and  disappointment  at  not  having  been  coo- 
wlted  on,  or  even  apprised  of  her  pUgrimage  to  Rome, 
Mr.  Everard  looked  with  the  fond  and  p.oud  remem- 
brance  of  former  days  on  the  materials  which  covered 
the  worii4aWe  of  the  Roligious-for  the  work  was  men- 
tal,  and  half  a  r«ain  of  small  Roman  folio,  yet  untouched* 
betokened  a  determined  perseverance  in  finishing  the 
theory  of  her  supposed  perfection.    The  books  were  in 
Utfai  or  .'-alian,  with  the  exception  of  a  Douay  BiWe  in 
EngUsh,  and  were,  first,  the  Rule  of  Saint  Be  lediot,  • 
oorious  Venetian  edition,  printed  for  the  use  of  the  Be- 
nedictine  dames  of  the  Strict  Observance,  in  1788,  witi 
a  declaration  following  each  chapter  of  what  could  not  is 
the  said  chapter  be  followed  by  cloistered  women,  with 


none  AKD  THX   ABBKT. 


nt 


).  Whctt 
ktive,  and 

re  slipped 
otted  her, 
rates  over 
nd  domes 

Thenbe- 
looked  ai 
le  trellised 
f  vigorous 
id  ajar,  be 
d  towards 
>  of  doubt, 
»rlour,"  be 
,  and,  as  he 
In  spite  of 
i;  been  cod- 
)  to  Rome, 
id  remem- 
oh  covered 
k  vras  men- 
untoaobedt 
nidiing  the 
>ks  vere  in 
my  BiUe  Id 
Bcuediot,  • 
)  of  the  Be* 

1798,  with 
Doold  not  ia 
romon,  with 


a  substitutidn  of  more  hidden  duties ;  then  came  the  De> 
croes  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  in  all  that  related  to  Nuns , 
next  followed  a  collection  of  Pontifical  Bulls,  regarding 
Nuns  of  all  orders  and  degrees,  principally  of  Saint  Pius 
the  Fifth  and  Gr^ory  the  Thirteenth;  while,  spread 
open,  as  the  work  fVom  which  the  Religious  was  making 
her  present  extracts,  was  a  thick  quarto,  printed,  but  un- 
publi^ed,  entitled  "  The  Statutes  of  Saint  Bruno."  Mr. 
Everard  could  proceed  no  further :  the  Rule  of  Saint 
Benedict  he  had  before  seen ;  but  this  private  loan  from 
the  Cloistered  Carthusians,  m  their  own  binding,  might 
have  attracted  a  less  ardent  antiquary  thui  was  our 
ftiend :  it  was  in  Latin,  too,  which  he  preferred  to  Italian. 
Tlierefore,  arrested,  like  the  roaming  bee,  on  this  rich 
flower,  Mr.  Everard,  being  seated,  leaned  over  its  con- 
t^ts,  and  became  for  the  hour  a  laborious  solitary  of 
the  Chartreuse. 

He  was  too  much  absorbed  to  hear  after  awhile  tba 
■ound  of  footsteps,  and  whisperuig  in  the  outer  parlour, 
or  to  notice  the  entrance  even  of  her  he  had  come  to 
visit,  until  the  remembered  voice  aroused  the  echo  in  his 
heart;  and  forgetting  that  he  had  come  expressly  to 
upbraid  her — ^forgetting  every  thing  but  his  long-tried 
and  fikithful  friendship,  he  started  up  to  greet  her  as  in 
days  gone  by.  But  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  said,  or 
what  she  responded,  and,  sitting  down  together,  there 
was  a  long  pause — not  of  embarrassment,  but  of  full, 
deep  thou{^  and  unconscious  emotion. 

«  After  all,"  said  at  length  Mr.  Everard,  "  it  is  hij^y 
interesting  and  worthy  of  admiration  to  pdroeive  that  a 
rharacter,  if  of  firm  original  stamp,  oaimot  change     Hm 


■   ■  a- 


nOUK   ASD  THE   ABBBV. 

direction  of  its  impulses  may  change-for  instance,  from 
the  world  to  heaven,  from  creatures  to  the  Creator,  and 
greater  reserve,  arising  from  the  caution  of  advancmg 
years,  may  prevent  the  free  iiccess  once  permitted  mto 
the  recesses  of  that  character.    But  an  old  privileged 
investigator  cannot  be  totally  excluded.    I  recognise  you, 
Geraldine,  in  all  that  surrounds  you  here,  to  be  the  sanie 
vho   at  eleven  years  old,  struck  your  pen  through  the 
word  in  an  order  that  would  have  given  you  an  inferior 
though  easier  instrument  on  which  to  commence  your 
lessons  uu  the  harp;  and  who,  on  the  remonstrances  of 
your  governess,  sprang  on  an  ottoman  in  the  centre  of 
the  saloon,  exclaiming, '  Not  what  is  easy  and  superficial, 
but  what,  through  time  and  labour,  is  perfect,  can  alone 
.uit  Geraldine  Carrington!'     I  recognise  you  for  the  same 
who,  at  nineteen,  said  thus  to  your  lover  at  parting, '  God 
Md  my  father  forbid  our  union !    But  for  this  prohibi- 
tion,  home,  country,  all  would  be  left  for  your  love.   IWs 
Mcrifice  would  have  been  deemed  heroic  in  one  placed 
like  me ;  but  is  far  greater  heroism,  for  my  father  and  my 
fliith,  to  renounce  your  love :  therefore  I  choose  the  best 
-the  heroic  best-and  bid  farewell  for  ever !'    1  recog- 
nise  you  for  the  same  who,  at  three*nd-tweuty,  havhig, 
oy  the  grace  of  God,  opened  yoin-  eyes  to  the  errors  of 
that  religion  for  which  in  good  fiiith  you  had  renounced 
your  earthly  love,  desired  that  he  might  never  know  the 
ohwre,  saying,  '  This  silence  wUl  be  the  test  that,  in  be- 
oomi^  a  Catholic,  I  have  sought  God  alone !'  while  at 
die  same  time  you  refused  the  silence  exacted  of  you  by 
the  noble  Protestwit  suitor,  who  made  it  the  condition  of 
hk  plighted  troth.    Ireoognise  you  for  the  same,  who,  m 


aom  AKD  TBI  ABBXT. 


mi 


ICC,  from 
utor,  and 
dvancing 
itted  into 
»rivileged 
jnise  you, 

the  same 
rough  the 
a  inferior 
ence  your 
trances  of 
!  centre  of 
luperiicial, 

can  alone 
r  the  same 
ting, '  God 
lis  prolubi< 
love.   Hub 
one  placed 
ner  and  my 
fle  the  best 
['    I  reuog- 
ity,  havhig, 
le  errors  of 

renounced 
)r  know  the 

that,  in  be- 
9  r  wUle  at 
d of you  by 
condition  of 
ame,  who,  in 


your  widowhood,  believing  to  fuid  united  in  your  8ol« 
person  the  riches  and  honours  of  two  ancient  fhmilies, 
trusted,  like  Abraham,  that  God  would  provide  an  heir, 
and  left  all  to  become  a  poor  Sister  of  Mercy ;  at  an  age, 
two-and-thirty,  and  after  a  life  suited  to  your  station, 
which  made  the  step  more  heroic ;  nay  more — who  in 
that  supernatural  hour  steeled  your  heart  against  the 
renewed  addresses  of  your  first  love,  leaving  him  for 
heavenly  espousals !  Therefore,  Geraldine,  shall  I  not 
trust  you  now  1  Shall  I  not  believe  that,  as  1  have  felt 
pain  at  every  step  you  have  made  towards  perfection,  and 
that,  nevertheless,  I  have  finally  understood  and  applauded 
it,  so  it  will  be  in  my  appreciation  of  this  your  pilgrimage 
to  Rome.  The  purity  of  your  motives,  thank  God,  I 
have  never  doubted  ■,  neither  will  I  doubt  but  that  He  it 
with  you,  that  same  Holy  Spirit,  who  has  hitherto  be- 
•eowed,  in  gradual  inorease,  such  gifts  and  graoes  to  y  out 

MNttt* 


■piSipilfp*" 


IM 


Bom  AWD  nm 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WUi*  othcn  twine  th«  row  of  Jna* 

With  Uljr  and  with  •glutina, 
And  nlM  on  high  tho  hallowod  Ium 

With  ToicM  fall,  to  then*  diTiiM  I 

I  iieuea  eui  aoro  tiM  tnin  •lone, 

Or  (Bxa  on  yonder  eanopy, 
I  cannot  otter  note  of  long, 

Nor  fkee  ban  blittdiaR  teen  bIm  eye  I 

And  yet  my  teen  ere  thoee  of  Joy, 

My  kraiag  heart  pieTeuia  ay  lay  i 
I  (Un  would  every-  power  enploy 

On  thii  ny  ftToniite  holy  day. 

it  maf  M^y  be  supposed  that  the  step  oqco  ia§4* 
bto  the  rooms  of  the  upper  floor  of  the  **  Pilgrim-House/* 
Mr.  Everard  there  spent  many  of  his  leisure  hours.  But 
into  the  inner  parlour  could  he  enter  no  more,  and  there- 
fore sat,  like  other  secular  friends,  on  the  outside  of  the 
trellised  partition,  in  a  very  comfortable  easy.«hair, 
where  he  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  hearing, 
more  than  seeing,  his  consecrated  friend.  But  the  sum- 
mer plans  for  avoiding  the  intense  heat  of  Rome  were 
soon  to  disperse  all  the  inmates  of  the  Locanda,  save  the 
two  Religious  and  Lucy ;  and  they  were  delayed  only  by 
the  two  great  Festivals  of  Ck>rpus  Domini,  and  that  of 
Sunts  Peter  and  Paul.  To  the  former  great  solemnity 
the  Religious  Sisters  were  to  be  taken,  and,  as  at  the 
prodanuition  of  the  new  Pope,  the  seat*  secured  for  them 


■  j!>;i|.  ww'i*?",  ^y,**'? 


mmmmmmmmmmmm 


■CMS  AWD  nn  Awmt. 


tw 


OQCe  7D«4t 

im-HouM," 
lioun.  But 
J,  and  there* 
tside  of  the 

easy-chair, 
ith  hearing, 
tut  the  sum- 
Rome  were 
da,  save  the 
yedonlyby 

and  that  of 
it  solemnity 
d,  as  at  the 
red  for  them 


were  not  those  called  "  resenred,"  but  ohdrs  in  va  angle 
cf  the  Piaita  di  San  Tietro;  and  Lord  Elverton,  Mr. 
Everard,  and  several  Eodesiastios,  with  the  good  Master 
of  the  Locanda,  sat  behind  and  on  the  sides  to  prevent 
intrusion.  Nothing  could  «ioeed  the  happiness  of  Mr. 
Everaid,  who  sat  immediately  behind  his  darling  Lily 
and  that  **  other  one,"  with  his  head  a  little  advanced  be. 
tween  them.  On  one  side  of  him  was  Lord  Elverton, 
and  <m  the  other  an  Irish  Ecclesiastic,  towards  whom  he 
had  be«i  attracted  since  the  evoting  they  first  met  at  the 
toblfrdliAte  of  the  Pilgrim-House.  This  priest,  who  was 
a  little  hune,  and  to  whom  other  droumstances  had  given 
a  studious  and  meditative  turn  of  mind,  had  been  a  fre- 
quent visitor  to  the  parlour  of  the  Religious  Sisters 
throughout  all  those  whiter  months  in  wMdi  Mr.  Everard 
had  nourished  that  loving  pique,  commonly  called 
^  riding  the  high  horse,**  which  he  now  declared  to  have 
contained  a  certain  diann,—**  Though  not  so  great,** 
ad'led  he,  **  as  that  of  dismounting  to  sit  just  as  I  am 
]•  sre  placed,  m  a  state  of  reoondlialion,  and  as  if  Saint 
Juliana  were  hovering  over  my  head  !** 

«  Safait  Juliana !** repeated  Ulia.  "  I>c  you  meac.  Sir, 
that  Sdmt  who  miiacnloudy  received  the  adorable  H>^st 
on  her  death-bed  r 

«  You  are  referring,  Iflia,"  said  her  Religi.  -  «  rdative, 
*<to  St  Oiuliana  Faloonieri,  whose  lecture  ixr,g3  \a  our 
Pilgrim*s  home." 

« But  !,♦•  aud  Mr.  Everard,  «  am  VJin'dv^  rf  the 
Juliana  of  eariiw  date,  whose  life  I  wiQ  lend  or  f^  yon, 

Uly." 

)  Ike  first  banaen  <^  Urn  BeUgiocs  prooeadon  nov 


iiiiiiniipm 


m 


r 


.,  »..^w6»««#M»*-«-MJ'i*:«-  T-TflBriT-*'-^-'^-^''--"' 


'■■■ 


J    1 


K 


184 


BOm   AHD  TBI  ABBir. 


appeared,  and  the  conversation  turned  exclusively  on  tha 
scene  before  them.  AA«r  the  diflerent  Rerigious  Orders 
had  passed,  the  Divine  Centre  and  object  of  the  festival 
approached,  and  all  sank  on  their  knees.  The  adorable 
Host  was  borne  by  the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  on  the  shoulders 
of  the  papal  bearers,  surrounded  by  the  Court,  and  fol- 
lowed by  all  the  cavalry-troops  in  Rome.  The  Pope's 
march,  the  last  effort  of  Rossini's  genius,  sounded  forth 
the  holy  triumph  of  the  day,  and  Rome  was  in  her  true 
glory^— a  glory  peculiar  and  inimitable — alone  among  the 
nations ;  a  glory  reflected  from  on  high,  still  untarnished 
by  the  fiwt  gathering  fumes  of  political  discord — 

auU,  itill  w«  Ma,  In  crar-teTonrad  Roma, 
Tha  loiiK  prooattioni  through  her  oolomni  coma  t 
Thaaa  ara  har  Cbriitiaa  triumphi,  tbU  har  prida, 
To  baar  tha  Bod^  of  tha  CrucUbd. 

Before  the  departure  of  the  two  Princesses  for  Albano, 
Princess  Z6n6ide  took  our  elder  Religious  to  a  private 
interview  with  the  holy  and  far-fkmed  Abbess  Macrina^ 
the  living  martyr  from  Poland,  whose  existence,  after 
such  barbarous  sufferings  and  wounds,  is  miraculous. 
The  enthusiasm  excited  by  her  arrival,  and  the  history  of 
her  wrongs,  in  which  enthusiasm,  not  piety  alone,  but 
curiosity  and  politics  were  strongly  mingled,  had  attracted 
such  numbers  (u  the  apartment  assigned  her  in  the  con^ 
vent  of  the  Ladies  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  that  scarcely 
the  popular  Pope  himself  could  have  more  crowded 
audiences.  On  this  occasion,  however,  of  the  meeting 
between  the  Pilurrlms  Macrina  and  Greraldine,  the  Prin> 
cess,  who  acted  as  interpreter,  was  alone  present,  to 
recount  to  the  Banlian  Abbeea  the  Sister  of  Mercy's 


Kom  Aire  m  iBBcr. 


lU 


lively  on  th* 
pous  Ordeni 
'  the  festival 
lie  adorable 
he  shoulders 
urt,  and  fol- 

The  Pope's 
>unded  forth 
s  in  her  true 
le  among  the 

untarnished 
ard — 


for  Albano, 
to  a  private 
ess  Macrina^ 
stence,  after 

miraculous, 
he  history  of 
Y  alone,  but 
bad  attracted 
r  in  the  con- 
liat  scarcely 
tre  crowded 

the  meeting 
le,  the  Prin* 

present,  to 

of  Mercy's 


object  in  coming  to  Rome.  Maurina  listened  with  the 
deepest  interest  and  approval,  and  whilt^  Gi-raldiue  felt 
touched  and  impressed  by  her  venerable  apponrance  and 
tenderly  maternal  manner,  she  was  talteii  in  Macrina's 
arms  and  pressed  to  her  bosom,  where  she  kissed  the 
pectoral  cross,  the  companion  of  all  her  MU^Ferings.  Then 
Macrina,  drawing  forth  a  little  rosary  and  cross,  and  a 
relic  of  Saint  Rose  of  Viterbo,  presented  them  to  Geral- 
line,  exhorting  her  to  courage  and  prophesying  success ; 
and  finally,  while  Qeraldine  knelt  before  her,  Macrina, 
raising  her  arms,  invoked  blessings  on  her,  giving  the  full 
and  solemn  Abbatial  Benediction,  as  consecreted  Abbess 
of  the  ancient  Order  of  Saint  Basil. 

One  more  holy  sight  renwined  to  be  enjoyed  f.,r  the 
first  time  by  Lilia,  and  also  by  Mr.  Everard  j  .\  his 
fitithful  companion,  before  leaving  Rome  for  Loretto. 
Tliis  was  the  illumination  of  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's, 
which,  through  the  kindness  of  Monsignor  Lcnti,  they 
viewed  to  great  advantage  from  a  window  opposite. 

**  And  did  the  effect  realize  your  expectations,  Lilia  1" 
•aid  her  Religious  Guardian,  at  their  recreation  on  the 
following  day. 

"  Not  at  first,"  replied  Lilia,  "  but  afterwards  I  was 
quite  bewildered  with  surprise  and  admiration." 

"  And  did  the  increase  of  brilliancy,  the  movement, 
the  glory,  the  clothing  as  it  were  of  flame  upon  flame, 
suggest  any  comparison  to  your  mind  1"  said  the  Reli> 


"  Oh !  tell  me— tell  me  what  you  thought,"  cried  LOia, 
*  when  first  you  witnessed  this  change  of  illumination  T* 
^l  thought,"  replied  the  Religious,  "  that  I  beheld  th« 


■■■ 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


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md 


I«» 


ROME   AND   THB   ABBET. 


"Yes  !  but  ho  is  so  ill !" — and  while  the  Religious  wat. 
listening,  full  of  sympathy  and  alarm,  the  Cardinal  ap- 
peared, \rith  on  open  letter  in  his  hand,  and,  after  giving 
her  and  her  Spanish  friend  his  blessing,  told  thera  to  go 
forward  to  his  library,  and  that  he  would  soon  be  with 
them.  When  his  Eminence  re-appeared  ho  did  lo(«k 
hectic  and  still  thinner ;  but  he  rallied,  and  seemed  pleased 
to  speak  of  the  clioice  which  Heaven  had  made  in  Pius 
the  Ninth.  Our  Religious  then  relating  the  anxiety 
which  the  assembled  people  had  felt  on  Monte  Cavallo, 
from  the  great  delay  in  proclaiming  the  Pope,  the  Car- 
dinal  said  that  it  had  arisen  from  the  indisposition  of  his 
Holiness,  caused  by  the  too  great  emotion  of  the  pre- 
vious day.  "  Do  you  remember,"  said  his  Eminence, 
"  what  I  described  to  you  of  the  three  Cardinals,  who 
each  day  are  chosen  afresh  to  make  the  scrutiny  of  tho 
votes  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Religious,  "I  remember  every, 
thing  which  your  Eminence  has  been  good  enough  to  re- 
late to  me." 

"  On  that  day,"  continued  the  Cardinal,  "  it  fell  to  tho 
lot  of  Cardinal  Mastai,  supported  by  two  others,  to 
count  the  votes,  which  he  did  with  a  firm  voice,  until,  his 
own  name  occurring  so  oflen  that  he  found  two-thirds  of 
the  suflfrages  to  be  his,  he  paused,  and  his  hand  shook  so 
much  that  Cardinal  Patriszi,  who  was  one  of  his  support- 
ers, held  it  and  the  papers.  Cardinal  Mastfu  then  re> 
fused  to  continue  reading,  and  proposed  that  the  Con- 
clave  should  proceed  to  a  fresh  scrutiny  ;  but,  by  a  si- 
multaneous movement,  all  we  other  Cardinals  drew  tho 
orrds  which  support  the  dais  over  each  throne,  his  alone 


rnr^ 


ROME   AND   TUK   ABBET. 


16Y 


reniRiiiing,  and  exclaimed,  'Viva  il  Papa!'  Cardiiml 
Mastai,  or  rather  the  new  Pope,  then  became  so  much 
agitated  that  we  feured  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  head.  He 
was  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  nervous  suffering,  and  we 
4iad  not  a  drop  of  cold  water  to  give  him.  We  altoge* 
ther  made  such  a  noise,"  added  Cardinal  Acton,  smiling, 
"  that  it  was  impossible  lor  those  without  not  to  discover 
that  we  had  finished  the  Conclave ;  yet  we  dared  not 
open  the  door.  At  length  the  Pope  revived,  and  ex- 
claimed, 'It  is  the  will  of  God,'  and  then  added,  'Oh, 
holy  soul  of  Pius  the  Seventh,  who  predicted  this  to  me, 
protect  me !' " 

When  the  Cardinal  had  finished  this  recital  of  an  event 
•so  interesting  to  history  and  to  the  world,  which  he  had 
given  in  the  graceful  and  animated  manner  peculiar  to 
him,  he  would  not  allow  that  he  was  fatigued,  and  con- 
tinued to  speak  on  subjects  of  both  public  and  private  in- 
terest, concluding  the  interview  by  desiring  the  English 
Religious  and  her  companions  to  be  present  at  most  if 
not  all  the  ceremonies  that  would  follow  the  elevation  of 
Pius  the  Ninth  to  his  present  dignity. 

The  first  High  Mass  sung  by  the  new  Pope  in  St.  Pe- 
tor's  was  the  next  event  of  intei  est  to  the  Romans ;  and 
greatly  astonished  were  some  sober  Enfrlish  priests  at 
the  delight  with  which  those  of  Rome,  Mvith  their  musical 
genius  and  warm  hearts,  first  heard  and  applauded  th« 
sonorous  tones  and  exquisite  pathos  with  which  this  high- 
ly-gifted and  highly-favoured  Vicar  of  Christ  gave  forth 
the  suh'ime  preface  of  the  Mass.  Our  English  Pilgrim, 
with  her  companions,  was  that  day  near  the  high  altar  in 
St.  Peter's,  hidden  and  attentive ;  and  at  the  close  she 


'i08 


ROUK   AND   THE   ABBEY. 


blessed  God,  saying,  "Behold  the  Pope  who  will  und«» 
stand  and  befriend  me !" 

After  the  High  Mass  on  that  day,  the  2l8t  of  June, 
1846  Pope  Pius  the  Ninth  was  solemnly  crowned  ou 
the  balconjr  of  the  portico  of  St.  Peter's,  the  mitre  of 
Bishop  being  removed  by  the  Cardinal  Vicar,  and  on  his 
sacred  head  being  placed  the  Tiara,  or  triple  crown,  of 
Prophet,  Priest  and  Kiqf. 


asf 


'"^r" 


aOMS   AND   THE   ABBKT. 


1«» 


CHAPTER  XVJ. 


Not  in  the  eatacombi  •lone, 
Do  SalnU  in  Rome  abound  : 

Some  living  round  tlie  tiaral  tliroiM, 
We  liail  on  upper  ground. 


Tmt  day  oefore  the  coronation  of  Pius  the  Nu  ih  our  old 
friend,  Mr.  Everard,  exerted  power  over  his  nerves  suiK- 
oient  to  mount  as  far  as  the  first  floor  of  the  pious  Lo* 
canda,  and  discover  himself  to  the  family  of  Lord  El- 
verton.  After  sitting  half  an  hour  amongst  them,  and 
wondering  within  himself  how  he  could  have  kept  away 
so  long,  it  was  ascertained  for  him  that  two  Ecclesiastics 
having  vacated  their  rooms,  and  left  Rome  immediately 
after  the  pi-oclamation  of  the  new  Pope,  there  would  be 
room  for  himself  and  a  servant  in  the  house.  To  this 
plan  he  consented,  although  he  did  not  relinquish  his 
apartments  in  the  Via  Gregoriana,  and  that  very  ni^ht,  a 
happy  night  between  sleeping  and  waking,  he  was  near 
the  friends  of  his  English  life — and,  oh,  wonderful  event ! 
under  the  same  roof  with  that  "other  one,"  whon,  he 
could  not  yet  meet  or  mention. 

Some  years  before  Mr.  Everard  had  had  an  inteioal 
struggle,  a  struggle  that  cost  him  some  weeks  of  illness, 
before  he  could  see  Lady  Elverton,  then  Mrs.  Carring- 
ton,  filling  the  places  of  that  mother  and  that  daughter 
who  had  successively  filled  his  heart ;  but,  the  struggle 
•ovei,  he  loved  her  as  the  sister  of  Don  Carlos  Dua^o, 


m 


"170 


BOMB   Ain>  TBB   ABBBT. 


Vwmt!' 


tnd  for  his  sake,  who  had  endured  much  adversity,  ha 
forgave  her  the  ever-increasing  prosperitjr  that  sarround 
fd  her.  She  was  a  &ithful  wife,  a  fond  mother,  a  pioua 
Catholic,  gentle,  graceful,  and  beautiful ;  and  though  afae 
had  no  power  to  produce  whatever  mental  stores  she 
might  possess,  she  was  a  patient,  or  perhaps  an  apparent 
listener  to  his  ever-varied  talk.  Ferdinand  and  Letitia 
were  nearly  as  much  beloved  for  their  uncle's  sake  as  if 
they  had  possessed  some  blood  of  the  Sinclairs  ;  and  he 
was  now  sitting  between  them,  looking  at  the  sacred  pre- 
sents made  them  since  their  coming  to  Rome,  and  de- 
bating aloud  whether  or  not  he  would  be  one  of  Lady 
Elverton's  escort  to  St.  Peter's  on  the  morrow,  or  go  in- 
-dependently  of  any  one,  save  perhaps  his  good  ftithful 
Moss.  There  were  other  and  younger  ladies  who  gene- 
rally followed  Lady  Elverton,  and  he  began  to  fear  that 
too  much  would  be  required  of  him. 

"  Well !"  cried  he  at  last,  "  I  will  go  with  you  all  as 
hr  as  St.  Peter's :  but  I  cannot  be  climbing  np  with  you 
ladies  over  St.  Andrew  or  St.  Longinus.  I  have  had 
that  bird's-eye  view  once.  Now  I  want  to  be  close  to 
the  scene  of  action ;  and  above  all,  I  want  to  watch  tbo 
countenance  of  the  Cardinals.  Sharp  fellows,  those  Car- 
dinals !" 

On  his  return  from  the  holy  function.  Lord  Elverton, 
who  delighted  in  the  characteristics  of  Mr.  Everard, 
questioned  him  respecting  the  impression  made  by  the 
countenances  of  their  Eminences,  and  he  replied  gravely, 
"I  think  they  are  very  holy  men.  There  were  particu- 
hrly  five  or  six  who  had  just  the  expression  which  artista 
mdesvour  to  give  in  their  ideal  of  Saints.    I  saw  wlut  1 


jm 


ROME   AND  TBI  ABBKT. 


Ill 


expeoted--acutenes8  in  the  eye,  but  the  whole  seemed 
more  deep  and  solid  and  humble  than  I  had  prepared 
myself  to  view.  Who  is  that  perfect  specimen  of  holy 
and  beautiful  old  age— that  chief  or  senior,  as  it  seemed, 
among  them,  who  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the  throne,  and 
went  to  and  fro  so  ofton  from  the  altar  to  the  choir  ?— 
tall,  pale,  silver-haired,  with  a  perfect  outline  of  fea- 
hires." 

"  That,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  was  Cardinal  Fransone 
—head  of  the  Sacred  College  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Faith." 

"Ha!  the  Propaganda  Fide.  I  must  go  there !  I 
must  ascend  and  descend  those  stairs  down  which  so 
many  holy  missionaries  have  passed  to  martyrdom !" 

"  Very  well !"  said  Lord  Elverton ;  "  I  must  be  going 
soon  to  the  Secretary  on  business,  and  we  wiU  go  toge- 
ther  up  and  down  those  stairs." 
"  Who  is  the  Secretary  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Everard. 
"Monaignor  Brunelli,  Archbishop  of  Thesbalonica," 
replied  hia  Lordship,  "a  wonderfully  clever  and  good 
man.     But  as  there  is  an  endless  variety  amongst  the 
Saints,  you  will  find  as  great  a  contrast  as  any  lover  of 
strong  effect  could  wish,  between  his  Eminence  the  Car- 
dinal  Head  and  his  Lordship  the  Secretary  of  that  imi- 
mense  moral  and  spiritual   machine  the  Propaganda. 
ITie   Lord  Cardinal   Fransone  all  meek  deliberation* 
Monsignor  Brunelli  all  zealous  action,  and  in  person  stout 
and  florid ;  the  Cardinal  in  his  suite  of  rooms  abqve,  still, 
medUative,  and  comparatively  solitarj,  except  to'  give 
final  decisions  and  sign  important  papers ;  his  Lordship 
in  hip  suite  of  rooms  below— where  %U  is  stir,  discussion. 


119 


ROm   AKD  TBI   ABBXr. 


ftnd  iii.portunity— -granting,  denying,  postponing,  rcpri. 
manding,  oomplimcnting,  accepting,  and  consoling.  Th« 
Cardinal  spending  his  recreative  hours,  except  on  pub* 
lie  day 4  of  reception,  with  his  little  birds,  of  which  he  haa 
a  choice  variety,  still  in  meditative  solitude,  luitil  the 
hour  arrives,  which  no  weather  or  business  ever  pre> 
vents,  for  being  driven  to  the  Benediction  Service  at  the 
church  of  the  Perpetual  Adoration,  the  Nuns  of  which 
convent  are  the  spiritual  dau^tcrs  of  his  Eminence." 

"  And  the  recreative  hours  of  the  Archbishop  Secre- 
tary ?"  demanded  Mr.  Everard. 

"  They  are  doubtless  most  exemplary,"  said  Lord  El 
verton ;  "  but  I  know  Monsignor  Brunelli  only  in  his 
public  capacity,  while  I  am  &voured  by  the  private  friend* 
ship  of  the  holy  Cardinal." 

"  Well,  I  must  see  these  two  men — these  two  great 
men  !"  said  Mr.  Everard. 

"  And  should  /ou  not  like,"  said  his  I  ordsliip,  "  to 
have  an  introduction  to  Cardinal  Mai,  that  fine  old  Mai 
—the  most,  or  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of  his  age— 
the  antiquary  of  the  Vatican — the  discoverer  of  vast 
Egyptian  secrets  ?" 

"Yes,  I  must  contrive  a  little  talk  with  that  great 
man.*' 

"  And  the  Tliaumaturgus  of  languages,"  said  Lord  El- 
verton,  "  the  holy  Cardmal  of  whom  so  many  witty 
things  have  been  written  and  said ;  amongst  the  rest,  that 
.he  was  .elected  interpreter  of  Babel !" 

«  Well !  what  of  him  V*  said  Mr.  Everard. 

•'  Why,  here  is  one  who  can  give  you  more  detwils 
than  I,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  as  Monsignor  Lenti,  th« 


US* 


BOlfK  AKD  THB  ABBKT. 


119 


ig,  rcprt. 
ng.    Th« 

on  pub. 
ch  he  has 
until  the 
8ver  pre. 
ice  at  the 

of  which 
lence." 
op  Secre- 

L  Lord  El 
nly  in  his 
'ate  friend* 

two  great 

dsWp,  "to 
ne  old  Mu 
if  his  age — 
•er  of  vast 

that  great 

id  Lord  El- 
many  witty 
^e  rest,  that 


more  details 
r  Lenti,  tha 


English  Pilgrim's  first  Roman  friend,  entered  the  room 
to  pay  his  compliments  to  the  father  before  mounting 
two  pairs  of  stairs  higher  to  seek  the  daughter.  "  Mon- 
signer,  I  am  endeavouring  to  give  a  slight  and  imperfect 
sketch  of  our  Sacred  College  of  Cardinals  to  my  good 
and  learned  friend  here,"  added  his  Lordship,  after  the 
first  compliments  had  been  exchanged. 

And  how  far  have  you  proceeded,  my  Lord  ?"  said 
the  benevolent  Prelate. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  describe  the  wonderful  gift  of 
tongues  bestowed  on  Cardinal  Mezzofante,"  said  Lord 
Elverton,  "but  have  foi^otten  too  much.     Was  it  not 
after  the  battle  of  Marengo,  that,  as  a  humble  but  zealous 
Missionary  Priest,  he  found  the  wounded  and  dyuig  of 
almost  every  country  in  Europe  brought  into  the  hospitals, 
and  that,  with  supplication  to  Heaven,  he  took  up  some 
French  or  German  dictionary  and  discovered  that  he 
learned  and  retained  everything  without  effort,  and  was 
then  mspired  to  hear  the  confessions,  and  found  that  he 
could  understand  and  exhort  each  one  in  his  own  tongue?" 
"  I  believe  all  thi*  to  be  quite  correct,"  said  Monsignor, 
and  the  virtues  of  the  priest  being  equal  to  the  wonder^ 
of  the  linguist,  he  wau  raised  to  the  Cardinalate  by  our 
late  Pope  Gregory  the  Sixteenth." 

"  Many  talents  can  lie  dormant  in  persons,"  said  Mr. 
Everard,  "until  some  call  of  necessity  or  charity  bringi 
them  forth  to  the  worid." 

"  Granted,"  said  Monsignor;  "history  and  biography 
have  taught  us  this  truth.  But  in  these  cases  there  is 
always  to  be  traced  in  the  .hild  and  the  youth  somethmg 
of  the  genius  of  the  man ;  not  perhaps  in  the  highei 


•aft 


3l 


174 


ROm   AHD  TH>   ABBtr. 


regicns  of  thought — metaphysics  or  mathematics — but  !a 
those  which  relate  more  to  the  perceptive  powers,  and 
to  intercourse  with  man." 

"  Yes,  that  is  very  true,"  said  Mr.  Everard.  "  Saint 
Thom.is  of  Aquinas,  with  his  vast  logical  head,  was  not 
discovered  by  his  fellow  students  ;  but  a  boy  who,  shallow 
in  other  respects,  shall  catch  and  retain  words,  is  the 
admiration  of  the  classes.  And  so  this  holy  Mezzofante 
was  not  one  of  these  clever  boys  1  Well,  I  am  veil 
pleased  to  own  the  miracle.  I  expect  to  find  miraculous 
manifestations  everywhere  in  God's  Church,  but  more 
especially  in  Rome,  and  I  shall  visit  this  His  servant,  if 
permitted  so  to  do,  with  awe  and  respect.  And  now, 
Monsignor,  of  all  your  Sacred  College,  to  whom  do  you 
attribute  the  greatest  sanctity  1" 

"  God  alone  can  see  and  judge  the  hearts  of  His  sei- 
vants,"  replied  Monsignor  Lentl ;  "  nor  could  I  indi 
vidually  presume  to  place  one  Cardinal  above  another 
in  the  scale  of  excellence ;  but  I  do  not  fear  to  report 
the  general  feeling  and  voice  of  Rome,  in  saying  thai 
Cardinals  Fransoui  fmd  Acton  are  recognised  to  be  her 
Saints." 

"  Acton !"  repeated  Mr.  Everard  much  pleased ;  then 
added  with  a  sigh,  "  Well  done,  poor  old  England !" 

"  England,"  said  the  Prelate,  "  has  a  character  now  to 
support  in  giving  Saints  to  Rome.  Two  Cardinals  have 
successively  borne  that  reputation,  and  a  young  and  lovely 
Princess  has  lived  and  di^d  amongst  us,  from  an  ancient 
and  noble  English  family,  whose  eminent  sanctity  was 
recognised  in  Rome  by  her  remains  being  borne  in 
triumph  to  the  &mily  chapel  in  Santa  Maria  Maggioie 


KOm    AND   TBI   ABBKT. 


ifa 


You  are  aware,  my  Lord,  that  I  speak  of  the  Lady 
Guendaline  Talbot,  Princess  Borgfaese  ?" 

"  1  should  like  to  know  some  of  thoee  detaila,"  said 
Lord  Eiverton. 

"  And  1,"  said  the  Prelate,  "am  most  happy  to  giva 
them."     But  before  Monsignor  proceeded  to  relate  those 
interesting   and  edifying  traits  in  the  brief  life  of  the 
Lady  Guendaline,  Lord  Eiverton  had  sent  for  his  little 
daughter,   that  she  might    be  edified,    and    perchance 
inspired  to  emulation  by  the  recital ;  and  LetitU  listened 
with  fixed  aUention  an !  with  glowing  cheek,  how  the 
young  Princess,  without  departing  from  the  claims  of  her 
rank  and  position,  found  Cime  and  opportunity,  especially 
in  the  early  hours  of  the  day,  to  visit  and  console  the 
EJck  and  afflicted  poor,  gladdening  their  languid  sight  by 
a  rare  beauty  8aw?;ified  in  God's  work,  and  re-assuring 
their  faint  hearts  by  the  endearing  familiarity  and  play- 
Ailness  of  holy  innocence,  captivating  all  to  Uie  sweet 
service  of  the  Lord.     Amongst  many  anecdotes  of  this 
loved  and  lovely  one  was  her  having  herself  made  a  dresa 
for  an  old  woman,  which  concealing  beneath  her  shawl 
she   carried   to  the  poor  dwelling,   and    in  which  she 
equipped  her  protegee  ;  when,  discovering  that  the  dresa 
had  been  nruide  too  long,  the  Princess  drew  forth  her 
implements  of  needlework,  and  kneeling  on  the  brick 
floor,  pcrfornu-d  that  feat  commonly  called  "  running  a 
tuck"  in  the  gown  of  the  old  woman,  and  achieved  the 
work  to  perfection. 

Monsignor  Lenti,  as  he  finished  these  anecdotes,  to 
Mrhich  all  had  listened  with  pleased  attention,  took  hia 


/A 


tm 


174 


ROMK   AND  THE    ADBKT. 


leave  of  the  first  floor,  and  began  his  long  ascent  to  th« 
top  of  the  house  in  search  of  his  first  English  friends. 

"  Well,  it  is  clear  that  1  cannot  see  her  to-day,  as  Mon- 
signor  is  engaging  her,"  said  Mr.  Everard  to  himself 
wiu  inwardly  relieved,  like  many  a  nervous  man  who 
thinks  he  shall  be  braver  on  the  morrow.  "I  cannot  see 
her  lo-day,  so  I'll  go  to  my  room,  and  ascertain  if  my 
books  be  come  from  the  Via  Gregoriana." 

The  next  day  he  felt  very  well,  and  he  determined  t/> 
ascend  the  stairs.  He  would  have  mounted  with  still 
greater  courage  had  be  known  that  on  this,  for  him,  long 
postponed  day,  the  Religious  he  went  to  see  was  generally 
taken  to  her  private  audience  with  his  Eminence  the 
English  Carduial ;  and  accordingly,  when  he  turned  as 
De  had  been  directed  to  the  wing  of  the  upper  floor, 
wnere  was  the  outer  d«X)r  of  her  rooms,  he  felt  at  once 
relieved  and  annoyed  to  find  doors,  gratings,  and  curtains 
all  open,  or  removed,  and  the  Italian  maid,  aided  by  Lucy, 
giving  the  weekly  sweeping,  to  which  .the  previous  daily 
attentions  of  the  bi-oom  had  been  but  distant  preparations. 
Mr.  Everard  was  mcapable  of  nourishing  dislike  to  any 
class  of  persons,  more  especially  if  of  the  gentle,  fair,  and 
devout  sex ;  but  passing  irritations,  and  half-hours  of  re- 
sentment had,  during  the  course  of  his  life,  been  more 
directed  towards  housemaids  than  to  any  body  of  peo- 
ple who  had  crossed  path,  or,  worse  still,  had  put  an 
impediment  to  the  free  access  of  his  study.  "  Well !" 
would  he  say  to  the  damsels  of  Bumleigh,  those  '  pitiless 
foes  to  a  spider,'  "  Whafhorm  does  he  do  to  mel  Let 
him  and  me  alone  in  our  quiet !"  when  on  some  occasions 
the  'hairy  legged  spiimer'  had  dropped  with  his  long 


...^lllgj-.AJAiL 


ROm   AND  THE   ABBXT. 


m 


thread  of  glue  from  the  ceiling,  to  ascertain,  in  the  Rpirit 
of  adventure,  what  was  going  on  at  his  desk;  and  now, 
scarcely  mollified  by  Felicia  Itissing  his  hand,  and  Lucy 
who  knew  him,  brandishing  her  feather  duster  with  de- 
lighted surprise,  he  demanded,  why  did  they  cause  that 
chaotic  state  on  a  Thursday,  and  not  on  a  Saturday,  tha 
old-established  day  for  making  people  miserable  ? 

"  Because,  Sir,"  replied  Lucy,  "  my  Lady  anl  the 
others  are  out ;  but  I  can  make  you  as  snug  and  quiet  in 
a  minute,  as  if  you  were  sitting  on  Sunday  morning  ^vith 
everything  clean  about  you,  in  your  own  study  - >  •ner  at 
Bumleigh.    Just  step  in.  Sir." 

V:'.  Everard  did  step  across  the  threshold  of  the  outer 
door,  exclaiming,  "  And  now  the  Rubicon  iu  passed  !'"  and 
followed  Lucy  through  a  little  ante-ioom  to  the  visits trs' 
reception-room,  where  she  placed  an  arm-chair  opposite 
the  only  window  that  afforded  a  good  view,  brought  a 
footstool,  and  took  away  his  bat  and  otick,  fci  he  had 
come  up  from  his  own  room  equipped  in  due  form. 

"  And  when  do  you  expect  the  ladies  home  1"  inquired 
he. 

"  Not  this  hour.  Sir ;  for,  aflfer  leaving  the  CardiBal's 
audience,  they  were  to  go  the  Thursday  excursion  to 
some  diiAant  church,  with  the  two  Princessi's." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  wait  here  aniiour !"  cried  Mr.  Everard, 
remembeiing  his  dignity.  "  I  cannot  waste  my  time  up 
here !" 

'•  Why,  Sir,"  said  Lucy,  «  surely  you  can  fill  up  the 
time,  instead  of  wasting  it,  by  meditatiiig  on  the  *  fouf 
last  things ;'  or  you  can  say  a  third  portion  of  the  Ro 
sary,  Sir;  or  I  can  fetch  you  the  Spiritual  Combat  1" 


p 


116 


'4 


ROm  AND  TBI   ABBKT. 


"  All  iri  the  Purgative  way,  Lucy,"  said  he.  When 
do  you  intend  to^  admit  me  to  the  Illuminative,  and 
when  to  the  Unitive  9" 

Lucy,  not  well  knowing  what  he  meant,  here  slipped 
away  to  the  completion  of  the  active  tasli  allotted  her, 
and  our  old  friend  sat  gazing  during  some  minutes  over 
terraced-topped  houses,  and  through  cupolas  and  domes 
of  churches  on  the  range  of  the  Vaniculum.  Then  be- 
ginning again  to  feel  a  little  nervous,  he  rose,  looked  at 
the  pious  ornaments  of  the  room,  and  finding  the  trellised 
partition  had  a  door,  and  that  on  this  day  of  vigorous 
cleaning  that  door  had  been  left  unlocked  and  ajar,  he 
threw  it  open,  found  himself  greatly  attracted  towards 
that  inner  parlour,  and  after  an  instant  or  two  of  doubt, 
saying  to  himself  "  It  is  no  cell — it  is  only  a  parlour,"  he 
entered,  and  was  amongst  the  private  pursuits,  and,  as  he 
felt  it,  the  private  thoughts  of  the  owner.  In  spite  of 
his  pique  and  disappointment  at  not  having  been  con- 
sulted on,  or  even  apprised  of  her  pilgrimage  to  Rome, 
Mr.  Everard  looked  with  the  fond  and  proud  remem- 
brance of  former  days  on  the  materials  which  covered 
the  work-table  of  the  Religious — for  the  work  was  men- 
tal, and  half  a  rvam  of  small  Roman  folio,  yet  untouched, 
betokened  a  determined  perseverance  in  finishing  the 
theory  of  her  supposed  perfection.  The  books  were  in 
Latin  or  .'Allan,  with  the  exception  of  a  Douay  Bible  in 
English,  and  were,  first,  the  Rule  of  Saint  Benedict,  a 
ourious  Venetian  edition,  printed  for  the  use  of  the  Be* 
nedictine  dames  of  the  Strict  Observance,  in  1738,  with 
a  declaration  following  each  chapter  of  what  could  not  in 
the  said  chapter  be  followed  by  cloistered  women,  with 


■iflitfMil 


ROMB    AND  THE   ABBEY. 


no 


he.    When 

inative,  and 

here  slipped 
Bllotted  her, 
ninutes  over 
I  and  domes 
1.    Then  be- 
e,  looked  at 
;  the  trellised 
of  vigorous 
and  ajar,  he 
jted  towards 
wo  of  doubt, 
,  parlour,"  he 
its,  and,  as  he 
In  spite  of 
ing  been  con- 
ige  to  Rome, 
roud  remem- 
'hich  covered 
ork  was  men- 
ret  untouched, 
finishmg  the 
)Ooks  were  in 
k)uay  Bible  in 
at  Benedict,  ■ 
ise  of  the  Be- 
in  1738,  with 
it  could  not  in 
I  women,  with 


•  8ubstituti<»n  of  more  hidden  duties ;  then  came  the  De- 
crees of  the  Council  of  Trent,  in  all  that  related  to  Nuns , 
next  followed  a  collection  of  Pontifical  Bulls,  regarding 
Nuns  of  all  orders  and  degrees,  principally  of  Saint  Pius 
the  Fifth  and  Gregory  the  Thirteenth;  while,  spread 
open,  as  the  work  from  which  the  Religious  was  making 
her  present  extracts,  was  a  thick  quarto,  printed,  but  un- 
published, entitled  "  The  Statutes  of  Saint  Bruno."  Mr. 
Evenird  could  proceed  no  further :  the  Rule  of  Saint 
Benedict  he  had  before  seen ;  but  this  private  loan  from 
the  Cloistered  Carthusians,  in  their  own  binding,  might 
have  attracted  a  less  ardent  antiquary  than  was  our 
ft-iend  :  it  was  in  Latin,  too,  which  he  preferred  to  Italian. 
Therefore,  arrested,  like  the  roaming  bee,  on  this  rich 
flower,  Mr.  Everard,  being  seated,  leaned  over  its  con- 
tents, and  became  for  the  hour  a  laborious  solitary  of 
the  Chartreuse. 

He  was  too  much  absorbed  to  hear  after  awhile  tJi8° 
sound  of  footsteps,  and  whispering  in  the  outer  parlour, 
or  to  notice  the  entrance  even  of  her  he  had  come  to 
visit,  until  the  remembered  voice  aroused  the  echo  in  his 
heart;  and  forgetting  that  he  had  come  expressly  to 
upbraid  her — forgetting  every  thing  but  his  long-tried 
and  faithful  friendship,  he  started  up  to  greet  her  as  in 
days  gone  by.  But  he  Mcarcely  knew  what  he  said,  or 
what  she  responded,  and,  sitting  down  together,  there 
was  a  long  pause — ^not  of  embarrassment,  but  of  full, 
deep  thought,  and  unconscious  emotion. 

"After  all,"  said  at  length  Mr.  Everard,  « it  is  highly 
interesting  and  worthy  of  admiration  to  pA-oeive  that  a 
rhoracter,  if  of  firm  original  stamp,  cannot  change     TWt 


w'' 


180 


nOME    AKD   THE    ABBEY. 


direction  of  its  impulses  may  change — for  instance,  from 
the  world  to  heaven,  from  creatures  to  the  Creator,  and 
greater  reserve,  arising  from  the  caution  of  advancing 
years,  may  prevent  the  free  access  once  permitted  into 
the  recesses  of  that  character.  But  an  old  privileged 
invest  igator  cannot  be  totally  excluded.  I  recognise  you, 
Geraldine,  in  all  that  surrounds  you  here,  to  be  the  same 
who,  at  eleven  years  old,  struck  your  pen  through  the 
word  in  an  order  that  would  have  given  you  an  inferior 
though  easier  instrument  on  which  to  commence  your 
lessons  on  the  harp ;  and  who,  on  the  remonstrances  of 
your  governess,  sprang  on  an  ottoman  in  the  centre  of 
the  saloon,  exclaiming,  '  Not  what  is  easy  and  superficial, 
Lut  what,  through  time  and  labour,  is  perfi^ct,  can  alone 
suit  Geraldine  Carrington  !'  I  recognise  you  for  the  same 
who,  at  nineteen,  said  thus  to  your  lover  at  parting, '  God 
and  my  father  forbid  our  union !  But  for  this  prohibi- 
tion, home,  country,  all  would  be  left  for  your  love.  This 
sacrifice  would  have  been  deemed  heroic  in  one  placed 
like  me ;  but  is  far  greater  heroism,  for  my  father  and  my 
fitith,  to  renounce  your  love :  therefore  I  choose  the  best 
—  the  heroic  best — and  bid  farewell  for  ever  !'  I  recog- 
nise you  for  the  same  who,  at  three-and-twenty,  having, 
cy  the  grace  of  God,  opened  your  eyes  lo  the  errors  of 
that  religion  for  which  in  good  faith  you  had  renounced 
your  earthly  love,  desired  that  he  might  never  know  the 
change,  saying,  *  This  silence  will  be  the  test  that,  in  be- 
coming a  Catholic,  I  have  sought  God  alone !'  while  at 
the  same  time  you  refused  the  silence  exacted  of  you  by 
the  noble  Protestant  suitor,  who  made  it  the  condition  of 
his  plighted  troth.    I'recognise  you  for  the  same,  who,  in 


.•'1 


•M 


HOUR  AKD  THE  ABBKT. 


181 


jrour  widowhood,  believing  to  find  united  in  your  solo 
person  the  r  >.es  and  honours  of  two  ancient  fiimilies, 
trusted,  like  Abraham,  that  God  would  provide  an  heir, 
and  left  all  to  become  a  poor  Sister  of  Mercy  ;  at  an  age, 
two-and-thirty,  and  after  a  life  suited  to  your  station, 
which  made  the  step  more  heroic ;  nay  more — M'ho  in 
that  supernatural  hour  steeled  your  heart  against  the 
renewed  addresses  of  your  first  love,  leaving  him  for 
heavenly  espousals !  Therefore,  Geraldine,  shall  I  not 
trust  you  now  1  Shall  I  not  believe  that,  as  1  have  felt 
pain  at  every  step  you  have  made  towards  perfection,  and 
that,  nevertheless,  I  have  finally  understood  and  applauded 
it,  so  it  will  be  in  my  appreciation  of  this  your  pilgrimage 
to  Rome.  The  purity  of  your  motives,  thank  God,  I 
have  never  doubted ;  neither  will  I  doubt  but  that  He  ia 
with  you,  that  same  Holy  Spirit,  who  has  hitherto  be* 
•towed,  in  gradual  increase,  such  gifts  and  graces  to  yov2 


r 


PHiMi|'W*-"'M»P'f"»MWniw,i   ijttfmm»mfm 


18S 


ROMK   AND  THE   ABMHT 


CHAPTER  XVU. 

While  others  twino  the  row  of  JuM 

With  lily  and  with  eghmtine, 
And  rein  on  high  the  hallowed  tune 

With  voices  full,  to  theme  diviue  ; 

1  iwuce  can  move  the  Irein  along, 

Or  gaze  on  yonder  canopy, 
I  cannot  utter  note  of  long. 

Nor  frae  from  blinding  tear*  mine  eye  i 

And  yet  my  tean  are  thoie  of  Joy, 

My  loving  heart  prevents  my  lay  i 
I  fain  would  every  power  employ 

On  thli  my  favourite  holy  day. 

h  m»jr  easily  be  supposed  that  the  step  once  roadt 
into  the  rooms  of  the  upper  floor  of  the  "  Pllgrim-Houae," 
Mr.  Everard  there  spent  many  of  his  leisure  hours.  But 
into  the  inner  parlour  could  he  enter  no  more,  and  there- 
fore  sat,  like  other  secular  friends,  on  the  outside  of  the 
trellised  partition,  in  a  very  comfortable  easy-chair, 
where  he  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  hearing, 
more  than  seeing,  his  consecrated  friend.  But  the  sum- 
mer plans  for  avoiding  the  intense  heat  of  Rome  were 
soon  to  disperse  all  the  inmates  of  the  Lociuida,  save  the 
two  Religious  and  Lucy ;  and  they  were  delayed  only  by 
the  two  great  Festivals  of  Corpus  Domini,  and  that  of 
Saints  Peter  and  Paul.  To  the  former  great  solemnity 
the  Religious  Sisters  were  to  be  taken,  and,  as  at  the 
proclamation  of  the  new  Pope,  the  seats  secured  for  them 


.  ^-i. 


SOm   AND   THE  ABBIT. 


183 


were  not  those  called  "reserved,"  but  chairs  in  %a  angl« 
of  the  Piazza  dt  San  Pietro ;  and  Lord  Elverton,  Mr. 
Everard,  bnd  several  Ecclesiastics,  with  the  good  Master 
of  the  Locanda,  sat  behind  and  on  the  sides  to  prevent 
intrusion.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  happiness  of  Mr. 
Everard,  who  sat  immediately  behind  his  darling  Lily 
and  that  "  other  one,"  with  his  head  a  little  advanced  be- 
tween them.  On  one  side  of  him  was  Lord  Elverton, 
and  on'the  other  an  Irish  Ecclesiastic,  towards  whom  he 
had  been  attracted  since  the  evening  they  first  met  at  the 
table^d'hote  of  the  Pilgrim-House.  This  priest,  who  was 
a  little  lame,  and  to  whom  other  circumstances  bad  given 
a  studious  and  meditative  turn  of  mind,  had  been  a  fre- 
quent visitor  to  the  parlour  of  the  Religious  Sisters 
throughout  all  those  winter  months  in  which  Mr.  Everard 
had  nourished  that  loving  pique,  commonly  called 
**  riding  the  high  horse,"  which  he  now  declared  to  have 
contained  a  certain  charm, — ^"Though  not  so  great,'* 
added  he,  "  as  that  of  dismounting  to  sit  just  as  I  oin 
y  ire  placed,  in  a  state  of  reconciliation,  and  as  if  Saint 
Juliana  were  hovering  over  my  head !" 

'*  Saint  Juliana !"  repeated  Lilia.  "  Do  you  mean.  Sir, 
that  Saint  rvho  miraculously  received  the  adorable  Hi-tit 
m  her  death-bed  t" 

"  You  are  referring,  Lilia,"  add  her  Religi.  ji  relative, 
**to  St.  Giuliana  Falconieri,  whose  picture  l:.T.g3  la  our 
Pilgrim's  house." 

« But  I,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "  am  tLIn'-iiag  of  the 
Juliana  of  earlier  date,  whose  life  I  will  lend  or  give  you, 
Uly." 
>  n«  first  bannen  of  the  ReligiocB  prooeaiion  nov 


184 


ROUE   AND   THB   ABBET. 


appeared,  and  the  conversation  turned  exclusively  on  th* 
scene  before  them.  After  the  different  Rengious  Orders 
had  passed,  the  Divine  Centre  and  object  of  the  festival 
approached,  and  all  sank  on  their  Icnces.  The  adorable 
Host  wa.'  borne  by  the  Sovereign  Pontiff",  on  the  shoulders 
of  the  papal  bearers,  surrounded  by  the  Court,  and  fol- 
lowed by  all  the  cavalry -troops  in  Kome.  The  Pope's 
march,  the  last  effort  of  Roe'^ini's  genius,  sounded  forth 
the  holy  triumph  of  the  day,  and  Rome  was  in  her  true 
glory^ — a  glory  peculiar  and  inimitable — ^alone  among  the 
naitiona ;  a  glory  reflected  from  on  high,  still  untarnished 
by  the  &st  gathering  fumes  of  political  discord — 

8UI1,  itill  we  fee,  in  ever-AiToured  Rome, 
The  Ion);  prooetiions  through  her  coiumni  come ; 
These  ere  her  Cbriitiau  triumphi,  thla  her  pride, 
To  bear  the  Bodjr  of  the  CruciAed. 

Before  the  departure  of  the  two  Princesses  for  Albano, 
Princess  Z^n^ide  took  our  elder  Religious  to  a  private 
interview  with  the  holy  and  far-famed  Abbess  Macrina, 
the  living  martyr  from  Poland,  whose  existence,  after 
such  barbarous  sufferings  unu  wounds,  is  miraculous. 
The  enthusiasm  excited  by  her  arrival,  and  the  history  of 
her  wrongs,  in  which  enthusiasm,  not  piety  alone,  but 
curiosity  and  politics  were  strongly  mingled,  had  attracted 
such  numbers  to  the  apartment  assigned  her  in  the  con- 
vent of  I'm  Ladies  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  that  scarcely 
the  populir  Pope  himself  could  have  more  crowded 
audiences.  On  this  occasion,  however,  of  the  meeting 
between  the  Pn-zrlms  Macrina  and  Geraldine,  the  Prin- 
cess, who  acted  as  interpreter,  was  alone  present,  to 
recoimt  to  the  Basilian  Abbess  the  Sister  of  Mercy 'g 


ROICC   AND  THR    ARBET. 


18« 


object  in  coining  to  Rome.  Macrinn  listened  with  the 
deepest  interest  and  approval,  and  whilt*  Giruldiuc  felt 
touched  and  impressed  by  her  venerable  appenrance  and 
tenderly  maternal  manner,  she  was  taken  in  Macrina's 
arms  and  pressed  to  her  bosom,  where  she  kissed  the 
pectoral  cross,  the  companion  of  all  her  sufferings.  Tlien 
Macrina,  drawing  forth  a  little  rosary  and  cross,  and  a 
relic  of  Saint  Rose  of  Viterbo,  presented  thenj  to  Geral- 
)ine,  exhorting  her  to  courage  and  prophesying  success ; 
and  finally,  while  Geraldine  knelt  before  her,  Macrina, 
raising  her  arms,  invoked  blessings  on  her,  giving  the  full 
and  solemn  Abbatial  Benediction,  as  consecreted  Abbess 
of  the  ancient  Order  of  Saint  Basil. 

One  more  holy  sight  remained  to  be  enjoyed  i*.r  the 
first  time  by  Lilia,  and  also  by  Mr.  Everard  v  .'.  his 
faithful  companion,  before  leaving  Rome  for  Loretto. 
This  was  the  illumination  of  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's, 
which,  through  the  kindness  of  Monsignor  Lenti,  they 
viewed  to  great  advantage  from  a  window  opposite. 

"  And  did  the  effect  realize  your  expectations,  Lilia  1" 
said  her  Religious  Guardian,  at  their  recreation  on  the 
following  day. 

"  Not  at  first,"  replied  Lilia,  "  but  afterwards  I  was 
quit«  bewildered  with  surprise  and  admiration." 

"  And  did  the  increase  of  brilliancy,  the  movement, 
the  glory,  the  clothing  as  it  were  of  flame  upon  flame, 
suggest  any  comparison  to  your  mind  ?"  said  the  Reli< 
gious. 

"  Oh !  tell  me— tell  me  what  you  thought,"  cried  Lilia, 
"  when  first  you  witnessed  this  change  of  illumination  ?" 

^I  thought,"  replied  tbo  Religious,  "  that  I  beheld  th« 


r^m$fif»^±-^)--  - 


•/ 


i"*!' 


166 


Ron   AND  TBK  ABBIT. 


already  glorified  tioula  resuming  their  now  glorified 
bodies  at  the  general  resurrection." 

In  three  days  tram  that  time  Lord  and  Lady  Elverton, 
with  their  yoiiug  son  and  daughter,  had  departed  for 
Naples  and  Sorcnto ;  the  two  Princesses  to  Albano ;  and 
Mr.  Everard,  with  Liliaand  Mrs.  Moss,  to  Loretto.  Nor 
was  the  pious  Locanda  the  onjy  house  to  remain  nearly 
empty  in  Rome.  All  those  devoted  to  the  occupation  ol 
strangers  were  now  tenantless ;  and  stillness — the  still- 
ness suited  to  the  holy  city,  became  each  week  more 
sensibly  felt  and  enjoyed  by  the  English  Religious  Sisters, 
who  could  now  take  long  evening  walks,  sit  unperceived 
on  grass-grown  fragments  of  the  classic  past,  and  visit 
churches  hitherto  unexplored. 

In  these  recreative  rambles  the  senior  Religious  could 
seldom  indulge.  She  had  an  arduous  task  before  her, 
and  the  devotions  of  each  day  being  concluded,  she  drew 
forth  from  her  portfolio  the  notes  made  at  different  times, 
containing  the  spiritual  hopes  of  many  years.  That  first 
evening  of  the  actual  commencement  of  her  allotted  task, 
having  in  the  morning  offered  for  it  the  intention  of  holy 
Mass  and  Communion,  and  having  now  recited  the  hynni 
to  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  sudden  glow  of  consolation  filled 
her  breast.  She  was  in  Rome !  She  was  in  Rome  com- 
manded to  write  the  Constitutions  of  the  Order  of  her 
long  ideal  preference!  and  kissing  the  feet  of  her  cru> 
oifix,  she  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  wrote  "  Constitu- 
tions of  the  Religious  Solitaries  of  Jesus  and  Mary." 
Then  followed  chapter  after  chapter,  the  first  being  an  in- 
troduction announcing  the  object  and  spirit  of  the  Insti- 
tute.   During  the  laborious  months  which  followed,  tha 


■w«rrf%T*n  MH^WWW^ilWi''* 


r  ■    jr, 


KOMI  AND  Tin  ABBIT. 


ttn 


whole  was  written,  and  for  the  most  part  with  r:>  »/rong 
an  impulse  that  the  words  seemed  inspired.  Other  parts 
were  yrritten  very  deliberately,  revolvi  g  in  the  retro- 
spect the  practical  working  of  different  religious  theories, 
adopting  such  only  as  had  proved  likely  to  iuure  to  the 
propoaed  Institute  the  greatest  personal  holiness  and  the 
firmest  conventual  peace.  Some  subordinate  parts,  about 
which  she  felt  still  undecided,  she  left,  as  a  mere  sketch, 
to  be  filled  according  to  the  advice  she  should  receive ; 
and  there  yet  remained  one  or  two  important  points  re- 
specting whidi  she  could  not  venture  to  write  a  word. 
In  this  latter  case,  when  the  usual  aspirations  with  which 
die  b^an  each  section  were  unanswered,  she  would  lay 
down  her  pen,  and  returning  to  the  chmvh  of  the  Gesd, 
would  enter  either  the  chapel  of  the  Madonna,  or  that  ot 
Saint  Francis  of  Assisium,  and  there  concealed,  but  still 
having  a  full  view  of  the  high  altar,  she  would  implore, 
in  the  Sacramental  Presence,  a  clearer  knowledge  of  the 
will  of  God.  At  length  the  Institute,  in  its  form  of  go- 
vernment and  its  component  parts,  was  in  its  theory  fin- 
ished. 

Geraldine,  once  a  Sister  of  Mercy,  was  to  become  a 
Solitary  of  Jesus — a  Silent  Adorer  of  His  Sacramental 
Presence,  a  choral  vocalist  to  His  praise,  a  meditative, 
studious  recluse,  and  to  associate  to  her  devotions  and 
employments  other  kindred  spirits.  But  could  she  fow 
get  the  poor  ?  Could  she  forget  that  a  voice  had  omjo 
said,  "Sick,  and  in  prison,  and  you  visited  me  no*!" 
Behold  here  the  mental  conflict  of  years.  Behold  the 
vision  of  the  Perpetual  Adoration  in  her  cell,  with  other 
celestial  invitations  to  personal  seclusion,  and  yet  tha 


•i.^r 


» I  ■  I 


18t 


ROMR    AND   TIIV    ABBKT. 


ever  re  '.rring  'nspirationii  to  dccdfl  t.f  charity  and  inn> 
cy  !  And  now  the  struggle  is  ])ast.  The  mvstery  is 
solved.  This  new  branch  of  the  Benedictine  Order  con. 
tains,  besides  the  usual  two  ranks  of  Choir  Nun  and  Lay 
Sister,  an  intermediate  class,  to  whom  arc  confided  the 
"  Spiritual  and  Corporal  Works  of  Mercy,"  under  the 
title  of  "  Handmaids  of  Jesus  and  M»ry," 

Next  to  the  holy  Cardinal,  the  mind  t  hat  had  the  most 
immediately  grasped  the  whol",  scope  of  the  Institute  was 
that  of  the  celebrated  Abb6  Gerbet,  at  that  time  chaplain 
to  the  two  Russian  Princesses.  He  had  not  actually  left 
the  walls  of  Rome,  but  hnd  removed  from  the  Locanda 
to  the  Princess's  villa,  near  St.  John  Latcran,  where,  in  a 
cool  alcove  formed  under  the  ruined  aqueduct  of  Nero, 
be  was  continuing  his  work  entitled  "  Sketch  of  Christian 
Rome  ;"  and  as  he  was  aware  that  our  English  Pilgrim 
Vas  still  to  be  found  in  the  holy  city,  he  occasionally  re> 
turned  for  a  day  and  night  to  his  old  rooms ;  and,  aoU 
withstanding  his  laborious  studies  and  weak  health,  would 
not  only  pass  a  leieure  half-hour  in  spiritual  recreation 
with  the  Religious,  but  still  more  kindly  consented  to 
the  thought  and  responsibility  of  giving  his  comments  on 
the  manuscript  she  now  presented  to  him. 

In  about  a  fortnight  the  Abbe  brought  it  back,  saying, 
"  I  perceive.  Madam,  that  you  have,  in  fact,  two  Active 
bodies  in  your  Institute,  and  that  those  who  are  wholly 
Contemplative  form  the  middle  body.  In  this  you  have, 
perhaps  unconsciously,  followed  the  principles  laid  dowTi 
by  Saint  Bernard  and  Saint  Buonaventura,  who,  in  treat* 
ing  of  the  Active  life,  hold  that  it  ought  to  precede  the 
Contemplative:  and  again,  that  when  the  soul  has  been 


'  \ 


I 


I. 


■■lii 


immmtammmmt^mmmmimimm 


BOUK   AHD  TBI  ABBCT. 


IM 


lourishecl  and  strengthened  by  Divine  love  in  contem* 
plation,  she  should  occasionally  return  to  action ;  not,  as 
in  the  earlier  career  of  the  Active  life,  to  lay  up  a  store 
of  good  works  for  herself,  but  to  benefit  others." 

"  You  mean,"  said  the  Religious,  "  that  those  holding 
offices  of  trust  in  their  convent,  must  necessarily  lead  a 
mixed  life,  however  contemplative  may  be  the  order  of 
their  vocation  ]" 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  this,"  replied  the  Ecclesiastic.  "  Su« 
periors  and  officials  in  a  convent  cannot  be  wholly  Con- 
templative.  However  secluded  the  position  of  the  con* 
vent,  however  strict  the  enclosure,  the  duties  entrusted 
must  oblige  them  to  descend  from  •the  solitude  of  their 
preference  to  the  action  required  of  them.  Saint  Ber- 
nard  declares  that  seldom  did  his  monks  leave  him  a  sin- 
gle half  hour  to  the  repose  of  contemplation.  It  is,  there* 
fore,  well  for  the  soul  to  have  been  previously  occupied 
with  God  alone  in  solitude,  or  at  least  in  the  solitude  of 
the  spirit :  that  during  some  years  he  has  lived  undis- 
turbed by  public  or  private  concerns :  and,  to  continue 
in  the  words  of  Saint  Buenaventura,  that  he  has  not 
'  occupied  himself  with  the  temporal  aflairs  of  his  rela- 
tions and  connections,  remembermg  them  only  in  rea* 
eon,  in  piety,  and  compassion.  Nothing  of  himself,  for 
himself.  The  contemplative  soul  must  cast  everything 
rapidly  behind  him,  and  become  as  if  insensible  or  dead, 
that  he  may  give  himself  up  to  God  alone,  unless  some 
tecessity,  in  spite  of  himself,  should  hinder  him.'  In 
your  proposed  Institute,  Madam,  there  is  such  a  body 
of  blessed*Contemplatives,  who,  whether  they  have  passed 
through  the  Active  life  in  its  first  state,  or  have  at  ocm 


HI 


ISO 


BOMK   AMD  THE   ABBKT. 


been  called  by  the  Divine  Spouse  to  be  alone  with  Him, 
Bro  to  furnish  those  who  govern  the  Community,  and 
who,  in  so  doing,  return  to  the  Active  life  in  ite  second 
state.  With  respect  to  this  body  of  Contcmplatives,  I 
observe  that  you  have  again  followed  those  two  great 
masters  in  the  spiritual  life,  Saints  Bernard  and  Buona- 
ventura,  in  protecting  Mary  from  the  well-meant  perse- 
cution of  Martha ;  for  what  says  St.  Bernard  ?— '  Be  not 
■urprised  if  he  who  works,  and  does  good,  murmurs 
against  his  brother  who  remains  in  the  inactivity  of  con- 
templation  ;'  because  we  find  in  the  Gospel  tliat  Martha 
did  thus  with  Mary.  But  we  do  not  find  that  Mary 
murmured  against  Martha  for  not  imiUling  her  conduct. 
Could  you  have  believed  that,  in  the  house  where  the 
Lord  is  received,  the  voice  ♦"  murmuring  should  be 
beard !  Happy  the  House,  and  blessed  the  Community, 
where  Martha  complains  of  Mary !  And  behold  the 
prerogative  of  Mary — in  every  circumstance  God  is  her 
advocate.  '  The  Pharisee  is  indignant  with  her,  her  sis. 
tor  complains  of  her,  tne  disciples  even  murmur  at  her ; 
yet  she  remains  silent,  and  Christ  replies  for  her.  Let 
Mary  then  remain  in  peace  :  let  her  taste  how  sweet  is 
the  Lord  ;  let  her  sit  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  in  security  and 
devotion,  beholding  Him,  preserving  her  soul  in  His  pre- 
Bcnce,  piid  receiving  every  word  from  the  mouth  of  Him 
whose  tenderness  is  lovely,  and  whose  speech  is  sweet ; 
for  grace  is  poured  forth  on  His  lips,  His  beauty  sur- 
passeth  that  of  the  sons  o<"  men,  and  the  glory  even  of 
the  angels.  Rejoice  and  give  thanks,  Mary,  who  hast 
chosen  the  better  part.  Blessed  are  the  eye^whioh  see 
what  thou  seest,  and  the  ears  which  deserve  to  hear  wlMt 


:'1^ati«^ 


■iMTiiriMawiiTiBwaMii 


1^^ 


ROME    AND   THE   ABBKT. 

thou  hcarest.    Blessed  thou  who  receivcst  ihe  Divin* 
whispers  in  the  miist  of  that  silence  in  which  it  is  good 
for  a  man  to  expect  the  Lord.'    This  for  eaii.t  Bernard. 
And  now,  Madam,  I  will  turn  to  a  part  in  your  Consti- 
tutions which,  for  its  prudence,  1  the  more  csjie  '..'/  ad- 
luired.    It  is  a  good  commentary  on  Saint  UcHiard's 
text,  '  Let  Mary  then  remain  in  peace.' "    The  Reverend 
Abbe  then  opening  the  manuscript,  continued:    "The 
part  I  allude  to  is  from  the  chapter  relating  to  those  en- 
titled  '  ''^e  Handmaids  of  Jesus,  or  the  Active  Sisters  of 
the  lns>  •  ue.'    Thus—'  As  these  Religious  Sisters  are 
constantly  employed  in  advising,  instructing,  consoling, 
and  reproving  others;  commanding  every  respect  and 
obedience  from  their  auditors,  and  receiving  on  all  sides 
applause  and  admiration  ;  let  them  rejoice  to  occupy  in 
the  Abbey  no  offices  but  those  specified  in  the  Constitu- 
tions, of  the  Almoner  and  Portress.     Let  them  employ 
their  monastic  hours  in  renewing  the  purity  and  fervour 
of  their  vocation — in  leading  an  interior  and  hic-'n  life, 
in  performing  with  humility  the  penances  in  chol  ,  chap- 
tcr,  aiid  refectory.     Let  them  delight  to  be  no  1  -ager 
teachers,  but  listeners  ;  Icavuig  the  anxious  cares  cf  the 
raistress,  to  become  a  little  child  in  simplicity  and  peace.' 
This  is  a  law  full  of  prudence.  Madam— this  will  prevent 
all  rivalry  and  confusion  in  your  Abbey." 

"Have  you  remembered.  Reverend  Sir,"  said  she, 
"  the  request  I  made  you  in  your  last  visit  respecting  the 
head  of  the  Active  Sisters,  under  the  title  of  the  Mother 
Almoner?" 

"I  have,  indeed,  remembered  the  request  with  which 
)0n  honoured  me,"  said  he.    "It  was  to  place  her  tat 


KM 


lot 


HOMK   AND  TBI   ABBBT. 


you  exnctl^  where  she  ought  to  be,  among  the  officials  of 
the  Abbey  ;  and  I  assure  you,  Reverend  Madam,  I  did 
not,  attempt  so  important  an  afiair  without  great  thought : 
the  Mother  Almoner  has,  in  consequence,  become  a  sort 
of  spiritual  daughter  of  mine — I  hope  she  will  behave  ex- 
tremely well,  and  so  justify  my  solicitude  for  her  inter- 
ests  !  I  considered  that  in  the  Benedictine  Order,  on 
which  your  Institute  is  based — the  government  being 
that  of  Abbess,  Prioress,  Sub-Prioress,  and  Economist — 
considering  that  of  these  the  Sub-Prioress,  having  the 
charge  of  the  choir  duties,  is  more  especially  the  '  Mary' 
of  the  Community,  and  considering  further  that  the  Eco- 
nomist has  generally  the  immediate  government  of  the 
Lay  Sisters,  who  are,  or  ought  to  be,  subordinate  to  the 
Missionary  Sisters,  I  placed  my  client,  the  Mother  Al- 
moner, in  quality  of  '  Martha,'  next  to  '  Mary,'  the  Sub- 
Prioress.  On  Iool(ing  again  through  the  distribution 
you  had  made,  I  think  I  was  right ;  for  you  legislate  for 
Choir  Nuns  and  Lay  Sisters,  but  introduce  an  active  body 
of  perhaps  well-educated  women  into  the  Institute,  who, 
having  the  privilege  of  ascending  hereafter  to  the  choir 
duties,  ought  at  once  to  be  placed  above  the  Lay  Sisters  : 
therefore  their  immediate  superior  and  representative 
should  hold  her  middle  place,  between  the  represents* 
tive  of  the  Choir  Nuns  and  the  representative  of  .'le  Lay 
Sisters.  Are  you  pleased  with  this  arrangement,  Ma> 
dam  ?" 

"  Perfectly  so,"  replied  she,  "  it  k  vkrre  I  supposed 
Reverend  Sir,  that  you  would  plaM  ju"t  '  i  'ient'  lu 
France,  as  in  England,  we  are  •s:j:'.:n'.cl  t:>  f  .d  well- 
bred  and  well-educated  women  in  (be  cUve  a:  A  uuuloui 


ong  the  offioiala  uf 
Slid  Madam,  I  did 
9Ut  great  f  bought: 
ice,  become  a  sort 
be  will  behave  ex- 
:ude  for  her  inter- 
dictine  Order,  on 
;overnmcnt  being 
and  Economist — 
oress,  having  the 
ciallythe  'Mary' 
ther  that  the  £co- 
)vemment  of  the 
ubordinate  to  the 
,  the  Mother  Al- 
'  Mary,'  the  Sub- 

the  distribution 
you  legislate  for 
icean  active  body 
lie  Institute,  who, 
ifter  to  the  choir 

the  Lay  Sisters : 
id  representative 
1  the  representa* 
itative  of  .'le  Lay 
irrangement,  Ma- 

1::re  I  supposed 
trjr  S'jont.'  lu 
:r.cl  t:>  f  .d  well- 
.'.Ire  a:  .d  uuclois 


KOMX    AND   THS   ABBKT 


tered  religious  life.  Not  so  in  Italy  :  the  different  ranks 
in  religion  are  preserved  with  the  greatest  care,  not,  of 
course,  from  worldly  pride,  but  for  the  sake  of  conventual 
peace ;  and  all  those  Orders  or  Congregations  devoted  to 
popular  instruction,  or  to  the  care  of  the  sick,  are  com- 
posed of  pious  women  in  humble  life,  whose  portion  ia 
given  from  a  fund  under  the  disposal  of  certain  fimction- 
aries,  .or  from  endowments  made  by  noble  families.  It 
would  be  difficult,  therefore,  to  make  an  Italian  ecclesiastic 
comprehend  that  any  of  our  future  Active  Sisters  could 
be  eligible  to  pass  into  the  rank  of  Choir  Nun.  I  have  - 
laid  down  the  reasons  for  affording  such  a  possibility,'* 
added  the  Religious,  "  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Consti^ 
tutions — ^but,  as  you  are  looking  at  your  watch,  we  will 
discuss  this  point  another  time.  And  now  give  me  yoor 
parting  blessing  I" 


J/ 


194 


BOMB   AKD  '^nx   ABBCK^ 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

Vhen  can  we  And  •  ilnila 
Expreiiira  of  the  mIm*  frand. 
When  treosarad  thought!  reflected  b* 
In  kindred  Bind  on  holy  gnmnd  t 

SxtrcBAL  days  sooner  than  was  expect^^,  the  liereroul 
Abbe  Gerbet  again  visited  the  centre  of  Roma,  and 
resumed  hia  instrucUve  conference  with  his  English 
Religions  friend. 

"  Had  I  been  able,  Madam,"  sdd  he,  **  to  have  remained 
longer  at  my  last  visit,  I  should  have  asked  you  why  you 
eon«dered  any  explanation  necessary  in  admitting  the 
Active  members  of  your  Institute  to  a  trial  of  the  Cone 
templative  duties  1  Did  we  not  bring  good  authority  to 
prove  that  such  is  the  ordinary  progress  of  the  spiritual 
life?" 

"To  many  minds,"  replied  she,  "some  explan^Jon  is' 
required,  because  any  change,  even  from  good  to  greater 
good,  is  looked  upon  as  evil." 

"  But,"  said  he,  smiling, "  I  trust  you  do  not  place  my 
mind  in  such  timorous  company  1" 

"I  could  scarcely  do  so,"  said  she,  also  smiling,  « to 
the  mind  kindred  with  those  of  Montalambert  and  Lacor« 
daire.  But  if  such  be  the  usual  spiritual  process,  tlia 
preoursive  and  active  part  of  a  young  Catholic's  inclina- 
tions are  generally  watched  and  analysed  by  her  Confessor 
before  he  perm':^  her  to  take  the  actual  step  of  entering 
a  Convent ;  and  she  has  generally  the  advantage  of  viaiting 


*"%«««(- 


ROHX  AND  TBa  ABBCT. 


10ft 


and  knovring  iutimately  the  details  of  different  Ordera 
'and  Congregations,  so  that  it  can  be  tolerably  well  ascer- 
tained before  she  enters  her  noviciate  that  her  vocation 
is  to  persevere  in  the  Order  of  her  first  choice.  But  it 
is  not  thus  with  the  increasing  body  of  unmarried  female 
converts  to  the  Faith,  who  have  for  the  most  part  received 
the  further  grace  of  religious  vocation.  They  correspond 
to  the  call — they  desire  to  devote  their  whole  being  to 
God,' and  their  choice  would  often  be  the  silent  repose 
and  peace  of  the  cloister,  did  not  long  habits  of  thought 
still  cling  to  them  respecting  the  useless  idle  life  called 
'Contemplative,'  and  the  super-eminent  value  of  that 
called  'Active.'  Should  any  such,  having  joined  our 
Handmaids  of  Jesus,  discover,  after  a  few  years'  active 
service,  that  where  their  choice  would  have  been,  there 
was  their  true  vocation,  they  can,  with  the  consent  oi 
their  Superiors  and  Confessor,  pass,  without  a  second 
noviciate,  to  a  trial  of  the  cloistral  duties." 

"  I  perceive,"  said  the  Reverend  Abb^,  "the  distinction 
between  the  two  cases  provided  for.  I  have  been  sup- 
posing  a  mind  advancing,  as  I  had  the  honour  to  describe 
to  you  in  my  last  visit ;  and  you  are  also  providing  a 
remedy  for  a  mind  mistaken  m  its  choice.  TTiis  is  admi- 
rable ;  and  the  more  so  that  you  say  •  t.  W  of  the  clois- 
tral  duties,  which  implies  that,  if  the  true  call  were  the 
Active  life,  and  the  '  mistake'  were  in  making  the^  change, 
the  case  is  not  hopeless.  The  trial  will  have  proved  the 
real  vocation,  and  the  mind  will  hereafter  remam  in  peace 
amidst  its  active  duties.  And  now,  instead  of  my  lK)r. 
rowing  your  manuscript  again,  tell  me,  Madaib,  whether 
you  have  provided  a  remedy  for  aay  mind  naturally 


**;■ 


196 


ROME   AND   THE   ABBET. 


gifted  for  action,  which,  mistaking  a  temporary  reliction 
for  a  permanent  change,  has  entered  prematurely  into  the 
cloister  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  she, "  I  will  read  the  extract  required ;" 
and  taking  up  the  manuscript,  she  read  as  follows : — "  In 
like  manner  the  Religious  Solitary,  until  she  takes  the 
Vow  of  Enclosure,  is  at  liberty  to  exchange  her  cloistral 
duties  for  those  of  active  charity  in  the  Institute.  But 
should  she,  on  the  contrary,  have  proved  her  true  call  tc 
the  Contemplative  life,  she  may  take  the  solemn  and 
irrevocable  vows  of  that  state,  and  be  raised  to  the  conse- 
cration." 

"  Reverend  Madam,"  said  the  Abb^,  "  let  me  exhort 
you  to  be  firm  to  what  has  been  inspired  you  on  this 
point ;  for  here,  within  the  Conventual  Enclosure,  without 
change  of  Superiors,  without  publicity,  without,  I  con- 
clude, any  invidious  reflections  from  the  Community,  the 
mind  will  have  its  free  choice  cf  the  means  by  which  to 
offer  its  willing  service  to  God." 

"  Provided  the  Ecclesiastical  Authorities  here  accept 
the  plan,"  replied  the  Religious,  "  I  hope  never  to  yield 
this  prominent  quality  in  the  Institute.  But  you  have 
just  spoken  of '  invidious  reflections'  made  within  tho 
Enclosure.  Were  these  not  prohibited,  there  would  be, 
indeed,  no  sisterly  peace.  Have  you  time  to  hear  a 
rather  long  extract  on  this  subject  t" 

"  I  have  time,  and  more  thian  inclination,"  replied  he, 

"  for  1  am  anxious  on  this  point  of  perfect  mental  freedom.'* 

The  Religious  then  turning  to  the  chapter  in  question, 

read  as  follows :— "  As  in  Heaven  the  Saints,  who  have 

•erred  God  in  contemplation  or  in  action,  live  in  uninter- 


SBSsastamm 


t^Sa 


ROm   AND  THK   ABBBT. 


m 


rupted  harmony,  admiring  the  vocation  of  others,  al< 
though  they  love  their  own  the  best ;  so  let  the  Contem' 
platives  of  this  Religious  Institute  admire  the  vocation 
of  their  Active  Sisters,  remembering  that  it  was  the  over* 
solicitude,  not  the  occupation  of  Saint  Martha,  that  was 
reprehended  by  our  Lord.  And  let  the  Active  Handmaids 
admire  the  vocation  of  our  Solitaries,  although  they  can 
not  yet  understand  why  Jesus  has  pronounced  it  to  be 
pre-eminently  blessed.  How  beautiful  is  the  variety  of 
every  flower  in  the  garden  of  mir  King!  Let  every 
Religious,  therefore,  who  is  transplanted  from  the  broad 
way  of  the  world  into  this  enclosed  garden,  cherish  those 
who  thrive  in  the  calm  shade  of  the  valley  grove,  and 
also  those  who  flourish  in  the  open  breeze  of  the  hill-top, 
for  they  are  placed  where  He  Mrills  them  .to  be  who 
created  them  for  His  service  and  His  love.  The  Reli> 
gious  of  this  Institute  must  consider  as  most  precioai 
tiieir  Union,  as  Sister  Spouses,  in  the  love  of  their  Lora 
Jesus  Christ,  and  never  permit  the  slightest  interruption 
to  this  sweet  harmony.  No  Religious  is  to  try  the  temper 
of  cr  Iher,  under  the  plea  of  increasing  her  merit,  or  to 
indulge  in  personal  reflections,  unpleasant  jokes,  and  rude 
banterings :  for  how  can  she  tell  that  her  remark  on  her 
Sister  may  not  be  as  ill-timed  as  it  is  ill-judged,  and  may 
not  surprise  h«>.r  just  when  she  is  laboring  under  some 
full  sorrow,  and  may  add  the  last  drop,  till  she  can  con< 
tail  no  more,  and  is  driven  into  impatience  or  sullen 
anger  by  her  who  becomes  the  occasion  of  sin ! 

"  The  Religious  are  never  to  make  joking,  or  unkind 
observations  on  any  country,  province,  national  customs, 
nok,  or  profession,  that  oould  give  pain  to  any  inmate  of 


.j2i 


iiiiWWir' 


IM 


BOMX   AND  Tin   ABBKT. 


the  Abbey ;  but  on  all  occasions  are  to  exercise  selfcoiv 
trol,  and  that  true  politeness  of  the  heart  which  is  bom 
of  humility  and  charity ;  for  all  rudeness  is  but  selfishness. 
It  is  the  preference  of  self — of  self-convenience  and  self 
indulgence,  at  the  expense  of  charity,  and  to  the  destruo- 
tion  of  humility ! 

"  Blessed  is  she  to  whom  it  may  be  said,  *  Thou  hast 
_oved  thy  Sister  as  thyself,  without  regard  to  utility  or 
recompense  of  any  kind ;  but  thou  hast  loved  her  cjrdially, 
because  thou  didst  desire  only  that  she  might  serve  God, 
behold  God,  and  possess  eternal  life.'  A  true  Religious 
in  Community  is  loaded  with  the  infirmities,  necessities, 
and  perversities  of  others.  She  must  carry  this  burden 
of  her  Sisters,  and  so  fiilfil  in  its  perfection  the  precept 
of  the  Gospel,  and  for  her  reward  enjoying,  even  in  this 
world,  peace  of  soul — the  sweetness  and  repose  of  a  good 
conscience,  which  ever  lives  with  the  Spirit  of  Mercy. 
Should  a  Sister  commit,  or  omit  something  essential, 
judge  her  not — think  it  ignorance,  think  it  involuntary, 
ttank  it  accidental.  But,  should  the  fact  be  too  glaring 
for  these  pious  suppositions,  then  say  with  Saint  Buona- 
venturs,  'It  was  a  violent  temptation.  What  would 
have  become  of  me  had  I  been  similarly  tried  V 

"  At  recreation,  and  all  other  times,  the  Religious  will 
repress  all  idle  curiosity  respecting  each  other's  former 
life  in  the  world,  especially  on  the  arrival  of  a  new  inmate, 
Dot  seeking  to  know  the  rank  or  fortune  of  her  connec- 
tions, or  whether  she  be  bom  of  Catholic  or  Protestant 
parents,  or  whether  she  be  a  convert  to  the  Faith.  The 
Superiors  and  Confessors  only  will  receive  the  entire 
oonfidenee  of  eadh  Religious.    The  Comtaamty  will  also 


&Sm 


wSSS 


KUU   AMD  TRK  ABBBT. 


\^ 


•bstain  from  making  comparisons  between  the  holy  lives 
of  Martha  and  Mary,  such  discussions  being  worsia  than 
useless..  That  life  is  best  for  each  to  which  God  has 
lo>'ing]y  invited  her." 

"  And  to  this,  Reverend  Sir,"  continued  (he  Reli^ous, 
^  I  have  further  written  in  addition,  in  the  chapter  of  the 
Noviciate ;  but  this  part  I  prefer  your  kindly  reading  in 
silence." 

The  Reverend  Abbg,  therefore,  took  the  manuscript 
and  attentively  perused  the  part  submitted  to  him,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  smiled. 

"  Now,  why  that  smile  ?"  said  she. 

"  Why,  Madam,"  replied  he,  "  I  thought  I  knew  a  gooA 
deal  about  Noviciates,  but  you  have  let  me  faito  a  fe# 
secrets  more ;  and  I  highly  approve  of  the  mode  in  which 
you  have  at  once  secured  freedom  of  choice,  and  prompt 
and  passive  obedience  to  the  Rules  attadhed  to  each 
choice.  There  is  but  one  more  question  left  still,  t 
think,  undecided — the  dc^^ree  of  intercourse  between  thd 
Conteniplatives,  the  Missionaries,  and  the  Labourers  of 
the  Institute  ?" 

"  You  have  given  that  title  of '  Missionary '  only  play- 
fully, I  conclude,"  said  the  Religious ;  "  we  do  not  pre- 
sume to  adopt  the  term.  But  as  it  clearly  expresses  that 
we  have  a  body  of  Active  Sisters  devoted  to  good  works, 
wlio  leave  the  Enclosure,  and  are  readmitted — passing 
from  the  cloister  to  the  world,  and  back  again  to  the 
cloister,  the  world  fur  the  present  may  remain.  Now  this 
intercourse  with  the  word  is  for  Jesus  Christ  alone,  not 
for  variety,  novelty,  and  recreation.  For  His  sake  the 
Missionary  Sister  hsH  often  to  pass  through  crowds,  to 


i 


WW 


too 


HOIOB   AHD  TBI  ABBKT. 


watoh  by,  and  instruct  those  of  a  different  sex,  to  oxer. 
hear,  and  perhaps  rebuke  a  language  of  coarseness  and 
immorality;  and  receives  an  especial  grace  to  walk 
blameless  through  the  ordeal,  preserving  a  gentle  gra- 
vity, a  meek  reserve,  a  modest  dignity  that  shall  attract 
♦Jie  good  and  awe  the  bad,  teaching  them  that  she  who  is 
divinely  sent  is  divinely  protected.  Most  precious  will 
it  be  to  that  Sister  to  know  that  in  that  hour  of  care  and 
&tigue  there  is  a  hidden  Adorer  in  supplication  for  her 
necessities :  and  precious  will  it  be  to  hear  on  her  return 
the  choral  chaunt  in  which  remembrance  is  made  of  our 
absent  Sisters,  and  to  be  assured  that  she  is  the  object  of 
mater-<»l  love,  solicitude,  and  approval  in  the  hearts  of 
her  Superiors.   Let  this  suffice,  except  at  rare  intervals." 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  the  JEieverend  Abb^, "  the  Missionary 
and  Contemplative  Sisters  are  not  to  have  personal  in- 
tercourse but  at  distant  epochs !  Are  you  not  in  this  a 
little  over-cautious?  Are  you  not  preventing  useful 
emulation  and  mental  enlargement,  on  both  sides  1  But 
I  will  await  your  reasons." 

"  They  are  these,"  replied  she.  "  We  desire  that  our 
Missionary  Sisters  should  have  no  other  thoughts  than  to 
fulfil  in  their  vocation  the  spiritual  and  corporal  works  of 
mercy.  They  are  to  have  no  other  cares,  and  the  goad 
of  solicitude  is  to  be  spared  them.  They  are  literally  to 
take  no  thought  for  their  life,  what  they  shall  eat,  or 
what  they  shall  drink,  or  wherewith  they  shall  be 
clothed  :  they  will  enjoy  the  functions  of  the  church  or 
diapel,  undistracted  by  any  charge  of  its  adornment. 
They  will,  if  listeners,  unite  their  intention  tc  the  choir 
chaunt,  without  obligation  to  follow  it,  either  vocally  of 


L 


KOm  AND  THE   ABBBT. 


Ml 


mentally ;  and  all  this  freedom  from  monastic  obligation 
is  that  they  may  carry  to  its  utmost  perfection  their  ap. 
proprlated  division  of  the  Institute.  Now  the  same  un- 
flisturbed  power  to  carry  our  vocation  to  perfection,  wo 
Solitaries  and  Perpetual  Adorers  claim  for  ourselves. 
We  desire  to  go  onward  to  the  perfection  of  our  calling 
according  to  the  means  prescribed  us  in  our  holy  Rule 
and  our  Constitutions ;  and  this  is  certain,  that  the  more 
th4  world  is  shut  out,  so  much  the  more  does  Heaven 
enter  the  consecrated  cloister." 

"  Most  true,"  said  the  Reverend  Abb6,  "but  by  tho 
•world'  you  mean,  of  course,  the  spirit  of  the  world. 
Now  we  should  hope  that  the  humble  and  self-denying 
Handmaids  of  Jesus  and  Mary  would  give,  as  well  as 
receive  edification,  in  the  more  frequent  intercourse  be- 
tween  the  two  branches  of  the  Institute." 

"  But  let  us  more  clearly  understand  each  other,"  sMd 
tiie  Religious.    "  It  is  not  intended  to  exclude  a  solemn 
and  silent  intercourse  between  the  Contemplative  and 
Active  Sisters.    I  am  alluding,  as  I  thought  you  were,  to 
the  hour  of  recreation  and  conversation.     The  Active 
Sisters  will  have  this  alleviation  twice  a^day,  the  Soli- 
taries  only  on  Sundays  and  great  festivals ;  and  we  have 
thought  of  admitting  our  Handmaids  of  Jesus  and  Mary 
only  at  Christmas,  Easter,  tiie  Assumption,  and  Michael- 
mas,  for  this  reason,  that  botfi  parties  can  the  better 
edify  e«ch  other  by  deeds,  not  wordt.    The  Missionary 
Sister  will  receive  more  edification  by  the  uninterrupted 
order  she  observes  in  the  duties  of  the  Cloistered  Nuns, 
than  by  the  best  chosen  sentences  on  the  hidden  life; 
and  the  Choir  Nun  will  be  fcr  more  edified  by  the  reporl 
9*         . 


il' 


tot 


mom   AND   THE   ABBEf. 


she  he«ra,  through  the  Abbess  or  Prioress,  of  the  pen^ 
vering  8<nl  of  her  Missionary  Sister,  than  bj-  the  most 
eloquent  commentary  on  purity  of  intention,  and  the 
merit  of  gaining  souls  to  Christ.  Women  can  rarely  be 
trusted  with  spiritual  conferences,  except  in  their  owr. 
body  corporate:  and  even  then,  these  so-called  con- 
ferences are  generally  passed  in  relating  pious  anec- 
dotes, or  in  repeating  passages  from  spiritual  writers : 
and  with  respect  to  conventual  recreations,  it  is  certain 
that  when  minds  are  unbent  ihcj  most  especially  re- 
quire to  be  congenial,  or  they  do  but  annoy  each  other ; 
therefore,  that  the  minds  of  our  Solitaries  may  really 
unbend  and  recreate,  let  them  not  admit  those  of  a  diC 
ferent  vocation,  except  on  the  already  mentioned  solem- 
nities, when  the  devotion  of  the  season,  and  the  sight  of 
their  highly  esteemed  Sisters  may  sufRciently  recreate 
their  minds.  TTiat  which  can  be  enjoyed  but  rarely 
is  highly  prized,  and  the  reverse  has  passed  into  a 
proverb." 

"But  my  client,  the  Mother  Almoner,"  said  the  Abb4, 
smiling.     "  She  must  be  admitted  much  oftener." 

"  She  must  be  admitted,"  replied  the  Religious,  "not 
only  once  a  month  officially,  to  give  an  account  of  her 
responsible  charge,  but  is  exhorted,  you  will  find  in  this 
manuscript,  to  seek  the  Reverend  Lady  Abbess  for 
counsel  and  support  in  every  emergency.  The  private 
Bisters  are  equally  exhorted  to  be  contented  with  the  di- 
rection of  the  Mother  Almoner ;  but,  with  her  consent 
given  by  herself,  or  by  the  advice  of  the  Confessor,  com 
municated  by  himself,  each  Missionary  Sister  can  con- 
fer  in  private  with  the  Reverend  Lady  Abbes%  on  tb« 
first  Sunday  of  the  month." 


F»'V«:m?'l« 


ROIIK   AND  TBC  ABBKT. 


101 


«  That  is  good,"  said  the  Abb^ ;  "perhaps  it  is  suffi. 
cietit :  and  the  Abbess  can  by  this  means  acquire  a  more 
Intimate  knowledge  of  each  Sister's  character  and  feeU 
ings  than  by  general  meetings.  And  now  for  '  the  La. 
bourers'— the  Lay  Sisters." 

"  They  are  in  like  manner,"  said  she,  "  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  direction  in  ordinary  of  the  Dame  Economist, 
who  will  every  month  officially  give  a  report  of  her 
charge;  but  should  a  Lay  Sister  desire  to  speak  pri- 
vately  to  her  Abbess,  she  can  do  so  on  the  day  set  apart 
for  those  interviews— the  first  Thursday  of  the  month." 
"To  return  to  my  client,"  said  the  Reverend  Abb6, 
"to  whom  you  perceive  I  am  very  faithful:  I  see  that 
ahe  is  eligible  to  be  at  once  elected  Pro-Abboss.     Here 
is  the  page  in  the  chapter  of  the  Reverend  Lady  Abbess: 
—'The  Abbess,  if  chosen  from  tlie  ranks  of  the  pro- 
fessed  Active  Sisters  of  the  Institution,  called  the  Hand- 
maids of  Jesus  and  Mary,  must  not  be  consecrated  until 
she  have  passed  two  years  m  the  exercise  of  the  Con- 
templative duties,  especially  the  Perpetual  Adoration 
and  the  Divine  Office  in  Choir.    During  these  two  years 
she  will  be  called  "Pro-Abbess"  and  "Reverend  Mo- 
ther."   She  cannot  use  the  Sacred  Emblems,  or  give  the 
Abbatial  blessing,  but  in  every  other  respect  she  will 
hold  the  place  of  a  duly  consecrated  Abbess.     At  the 
expiration  of  the  term  of  probation,  the  Lord  Bishop 
will  either  break  or  confirm  the  election.' " 

«  Do  you  object,"  said  the  Religious,  « to  tWs  possi- 
bility of  electing  one  of  the  Active  Members  of  the  In- 

•tituter  ,  ,  J 

«  rot  as  a  oontingonoy,"  replied  he,  «  and  guarded  m 


304 


ROME    AND   TUB    Al  BET. 


it  is  hero  ;  for  you  have  given  here  i\  two  years'  trial — • 
Noviciate,  in  fiict — to  learn  the  mechanical  part  of  her 
new  duties ;  and,  I  conclude,  that  unless  the  Chui»ter 
Nuns  observe  a  Saint  Gertrude  or  a  Saint  Teresa  among 
the  Active  Sisters,  they  will  not  elect  beyond  their  own 
immediate  body  1" 

"  No,"  replied  she.  "  I  merely  wish  that  suih  a  pos- 
sibility may  be,  for  these  two  reasons — First,  that  our 
Active  Sisters  may  feel  that  they  are  daughters,  not 
boarders  in  the  Abbey ;  and  secondly,  that  ambition  may 
not  be  a  hidden  motive  to  leave  the  Active  for  the  Con- 
templative life,  in  order  to  be  eligible  to  the  government 
of  the  Abbey." 

"  I  see,"  said  he,  "  that  you  have  touched  on  the  sub- 
ject of  ambition  before,  at  the  close  of  the  chapter  on  the 
Vow  of  Poverty  ;*'  and  opening  the  manuscript,  he  read 
aloud  : — "  Let  a  Religious  act  up  to  what  m  here  writ- 
ten, and  she  will  perform  all  the  obligations  of  her  Vow 
of  Poverty.  But  would  she  soar  to  a  perfection  above 
even  these  obligations,  let  her  reflect  and  feel  that,  until 
a  Religious  has,  by  the  grace  of  God,  overcome  ambition, 
she  is  not  perfectly  'poor.'  The  enemy  is  most  subtle 
in  disguising  a  love  of  promotion,  under  various  pre- 
tences ;  but  she  who  is  in  the  constant  habit  of  self-ex- 
amination will  detect  his  artifices.  She  who  is  *  poor  in 
spirit'  will  accept  or  resign  an  ofiice  without  a  view  to 
self-interest  or  solC-'ndulgence.  She  is  poor, — she  pos- 
sesses nothing, — !:othi og  can  be  hers.  She  knows  this, 
iihe  feels  this,  sho  tejcuces  in  this.  She  passes  from  one 
employment,  ;.uie  'office  to  another,  as  she  would,  on  a 
journey,  alight  from  one  vehicle  and  step  into  the  next 


li 


0^ 


MSm 


ROMR    AND   THR    ABBKT. 


200 


appointed  for  her.    Both  may  be  equally  useful  to  help 
her  on  her  road  ;  but,  would  it  not  prove  injbecility  o! 
mind  to  become  attached  to  one  of  these  vehicles,  and  to 
desire  to  take  up  her  abode  and  make  her  home  in  it  ? 
A  Solitary  of  Jesus,  if  truly  poor  in  spirit,  seeks  not  the 
praise  even  of  the  good  ;  she  resists  that  natural  propcn- 
Mity  to  fill  the  purse  of  her  self-love  with  the  golden 
opinions  of  others.     Novices  may  sometimes  require 
.priiso ;  nor  would  we  totally  withhold  it  from  them ; 
but  the  true  Spouse  of  Him  who  was  despised  and  re- 
jected of  men,  can  desire  no  part  in  their  applause.     Is 
she  not  dead,  and  her  life  hidden  ■-  Christ  ?     Oh  !  what 
can  she  require  of  the  shades  and  phantoms  of  a  perish- 
able  world?    Sne  has  already  weighed  it  in  the  balance, 
and  found  it  wanting;  and  has  purchased,  with  all  she 
then  had,  that  '  Pearl  of  great  price,'  and  found  those 
true  riches  which  moth  cannot  corrupt,  nor  thieves  break 
through  and  steal.    The  sense  of  which  everlasting  trea- 
Hure  gives  her  a  light  and  free  heart  to  soar  above  uU 
those  of  time  and  sense,  and  ascend  to  Him  who  has  pro 
mised  to,  and  is  reserving  for  her,  the  boundless  riches 
of  Heaven.     Let  the  Religious  Solitary,  then,  bear  in 
luind  both  the  exterior  and  interior  poverty  required  by 
her  vow,  and  let  her  press  onward  to  its  perfection  :  ge 
nerously  renouncing,  not  only  the  riches  of  the  world 
and  the  desire  of  them,  but  also  the  honour,  the  praise, 
the  love  of  all  creatures  :  seeking  only  His  love  and  His 
praise  who,  in  pronouncing  those  blessed  who  are  '  pure 
in  spirit,'  has  promised  that  even  here  shall  commenM 
Vithin  them  the  '  kingdom  of  Heaven  t' " 


nmmmttit 


ac« 


BOMB   AND  THX  ABBBT. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Thanltt  be  to  God  that  not  alone 
To  Rome,  a>  to  our  Head,  *c  "ome, 

In  humble  filial  part : 
Sat  that  vt  alao  And,  and  feel 
The  genial  pulw  to  warm  and  heal. 

From  her  maternal  Heart ! 

Towards  the  end  of  September  in  that  year,  1846,  our 
English  Pilgrim,  having  finished  her  allotted  task,  was 
gladdened  by  the  news  that  her  holy  friend  and  director, 
Cardinal  Acton,  had  returned  in  better  health  from  the 
country  to  his  Palace  in  Rome.    In  a  few  days  she  was 
admitted  to  see  and  hear  him  once  more— and  these  were 
happy  interviews.    Few  were  aware  of  his  return ;  the 
ante-rooms  were  empty— she  was  not  hurried  by  any 
one— brighter  hopes  were  before  her— and  his  Eminence 
looked  less  ill  than  she  had  expected,  and  was  more  than 
ever  kind,  and  gentle,  and  holy.    At  length  the  written 
Constitutions  of  the  Institute  were  spoken  of,  and  she  was 
desired  to  bring  or  send  them.    She  preferred  the  latter, 
and  gave  the  Cardinal  a  fortnight  wherein  to  peruse  the 
manuscript  before  she  again  sought  an  audience.     Oh 
that  day  she  approached  his  Eminence  with  great  timid- 
ity.   "  If,"  thought  she,  "  he  should  treat  the  work  with 
contem.f?— or  wholly  condemn  it?— or  not  yet  have 
read  a  line?"    The  two  formor  suppositions  so  much 
alarmed  her  that  she  began  almost  to  hope  in  the  latter, 
lill,  hsA-ing  received  the  Cardinal's  blessing,  and  being 


^ 


MMHIUw* 


«■■ 


ummmmmWHH*'^ 


ir,  1846,  our 
id  task,  was 
sind  director, 
ilth  from  the 
lays  she  was 
id  these  were 

return ;  the 
Tied  by  any 
lis  Eminenco 
as  more  than 
1  the  written 
',  and  she  was 
'ed  the  latter, 
to  peruse  the 
idience.  Oh 
I  great  timid« 
he  work  witli 
not  yet  have 
ons  so  much 

in  the  latter, 
ig,  and  being 


Igl^igg 


J 


KOlOi  AWD  TBC  ABBnr. 


•Ot 


•eated  by  him,  she  at  length  ventured  to  raiw  her  eye. 
and  perceived  his  Eminence  was  watching  her  emotion 
tod  smiling  with  great  complacency.     This  gave  her 
courage.    ITie  Cardinal  then  said,  "Well  I  of  course  I 
must  think  it  aU  very  beautiful :  you  have  proved  also 
to  have  great  knowledge  of  the  Religious  life  and  of  Re- 
ligious  Communities.    There  are  some  few  things,  how. 
ever,  that  must  be  changed."    These  parts  were  accord- 
tagiy  all  changed  in  obedience  to  his  better  judgment 
TTiey  were  few  in  number,  and  not  amongst  those  writ- 
ten  under  the  strong  impulse  described  in  a  form^chap- 
ter,  save  one.    There  was  one  point  of  real  importanod 
in  the  estimation  of  both,  in  which  tiiey  differed  accord- 
ing  to  the  vocation  of  each;  the  Cardinal  following  the 
Ideas  of  Saint  Ignatius  Loyola,  respecting  the  vows^ 
even  of  the  cloistered  Solitaries,  and  our  Pilgrim  those 
of  Samt  Benedict.    At  length,  after  some  antious  and 
unhappy  days,  she  wrote  to  his  Eminence  that,  as  she 
could  not  expect  the  divine  blessing  im  the  work  unless 
it  were  begun  and  continued  in  obedience,  she  yielded  iu 
Buderstanding  as  in  will.    Soon  after  this  submission  she 
ieaped  her  reward ;  for  his  Eminence  did  not  forbid  her, 
as  she  had  thought,  to  expect  in  the  end  the  soleton  and 
irrevocable  vows :  and  now,  with  grateful  heart,  she  en. 
joyed  the  further  solace  of  hearing,  through  the  Roman 
official  employed,  that  her  petition  *o  Uh  Holiness  was 
proceeding  surely,  though  with  Roman  slowness,  to  its 
final  success;  and  with  a  safe  conscience  she  began  then 
to  share  the  cool  walka  <»ad  visit  the  distant  churches 
^th  her  two  oompanioris,  from  sunset  to  the  Ave  Mari* 
*♦  Why !  what  an  idle  \iie  you  are  leading  now,  M» 


t08 


ROUK   AHD  THK   AVltZr. 


dani,"  cried  the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison,  who  was  the 
first  to  return  to  Rome  of  the  dispersed  summer  party. 

"  I  am  only  taking  a  deep  breath,"  returned  she,  "  like 
the  poor  Deacon  in  the  long  ' Ite  missa  est!' " 

"  Well !"  sdd  he,  "  who  would  have  the  heart  to  deny 
you  a  little  leisure  ?  Not  1 — ^particularly  after  bo  many 
mouths  passed  at  that  most  idle  of  places,  Naples.  How. 
ever,  I  finished  the  business  which  took  me  there,  and  of 
which  I  will  give  you  an  account  some  day.  Sister 
Agnes  is  looking  well,  I  dare  say,  if  I  could  but  sec  her 
face,  and  Lucy  is  much  improved ;  but  where  is  Miss 
Lilia?" 

"  She  is  on  her  way  back  firom  Loretto  and  Aasisium,'* 
said  the  Religious,  "  where  she  has  been  spending  tuo 
sultry  months  with  our  old  friend  Mr.  Everard  and  an 
elderly  lady  called  Mrs.  Moss.  This  pilgrimage  to  Lo- 
rei«^o  has  greatly  interested  them  all ;  and  I  am  told,  in 
the  few  lines  which  announce  their  return,  that  I  u^^  to 
prepare  myself  for  somethmg  that  will  make  me  very 
happy." 

"  Mr.  Everard  is  bringing  you  a  btock  of  blessed  to- 
saries,  bells,  and  crucifixes,  depend  on  it,"  tsid  Mr.  Tor 
rison,  "  with  relics  of  the  sacred  building ;  but  do  they 
say  nothing  of  Assisium  1" 

"Yes,  indeed,  they  say  much  more  about  Assisium 
than  of  Loretto,  which  is  part  of  the  mystery  ;  and  you 
may  well  imagine  our  Lilia,  with  her  warm  heart  and 
bright  mind,  standing  on  the  actual  spot  where  stood 
Saint  Clare  when  holding  the  sacred  vessel  which  cou> 
lained  the  Divine  Mysteries,  and  thus  scaring  away  the 


I 


mms^€ 


warn 


BOm  AHD  TBI   ABBXr. 


200 


I 


»nny  of  the  Saracens.      Have  you  ever  visited  that 
Bceue  1" 

"Yes;  I  used  generally  to  go  north  in  the  summer, 
dunng  my  long  life  i„  Rome  formerly,  and  have  becu 
twice  at  Assisium.    The  tommer-iorative  spot  still  be. 
longs  as  it  ought,  to  the  poor  Qares,  who  in  Italy  arc  in- 
variably  confounded  with  and  called  Capncine  (Capu- 
chmesses.)     It  is  „ow  a  great  window,  opened  only  on 
joleriin  occasions,  to  which  you  go,  as  I  suppose  did  Saint 
Uare  by  a  corridor.    It  is  singular,  after  reading  in  the 
life  of  Saint  Francis,  how  much  he  objected,  in  his  holy 
poverty,  to  the  imiovations  of 'Brotlier  Elias,'  to  find  the 
large  sleeves  and  handsome  folds  of  the  Conventualists 
^  have  taken  exclusive  possession  of  Samt  Damians  at 
Assisium.    They  are  in  black,  too,  and  seem  to  have 
imitated  .ae  Benedictines:  so  that  you  find  the  proper 
-canty  and  patched  brown  habit  of  the  Franciscans  only 
amongst  the  poor  Clares,  at  the  founder's  native  place 
and  first  settlement." 
"  But,  at  Rome,  and  over  the  rest  of  Italy,"  said  she. 
you  will  find  the  Franciscan  brown  spread  m  the  pro! 
portion  of,  I  should  imagine,  ten  or  even  fifteen  to  one  of 
any  other  colour." 

"You  see  the  Franciscan  Friars  more  than  you  do  the 
lidigmxs  of  any  other  Order.,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison 
' J>ecuuse  they  are  for  ever  on  the  move ;  but  undoubt- 
'  d,-  they  are  the  most  numerous  of  any  Order  in  the 
t -liu:  t,.  The  principal  church  and  convent  of  the  Obser- 
Tnit  us  are  here  close  to  us,  at  the  Ara  Coeli,  on  the  oa. 
p  ,tol.  1  ou  have  often  climbed  those  many  steps,  I  con- 
/  Jude,  which  is  more  than  I  int«nd  to  do  again  till  the 


mi 


iio 


SOMK   AMD  TBK   ABBET. 


winter.  It  was  in  iliat  church,  while  the  Friars  were 
chanting  vespers,  that  Gibbon  first  thought  of  writhig  his 
'  Declint  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,'  as  1  suppose 
you  know." 

"  Yes,"  replied  she,  "  I  did  remember  the  circumstance 
"^hen  I  first  visited  thaf  interesting  old  church,  so  shabby 
v.itN>«t  and  so  well  kept  within;  but  that  was  many 
y  i  I  remembered  this  time  the  churches  in  con< 

neot  ■■>  .  >  h  the  Ara  Coeli  in  Rome — above  all,  die  Holy 
SepulcL.  .■  ia.  Jerusalem,  which  is  served  by  the  ObSer- 
vantin  Franciticans." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is  so.  Hie  Franciscans  have  pes* 
session  of  the  holy  places  in  Jerusalem." 

"  Two  Orders  in  Rome."  said  the  Religious,  "  are  so 
conspicuously  prominv..^l,  that  all  the  others  are  but  spe- 
cimens of  what  they  might  become,  or  might  once  have 
been,  in  a  wider  field  for  development  These  two  Or- 
ders are  the  Jesuits  and  the  Franciscans — the  one  have 
received  their  mission  to  preach  to  and  i-^struct  the  rich, 
•nd  the  other  the  poor.  Both  are  faithful  and  in  fiill  vi- 
gour ;  so  that  Rome  is  well  served." 

Mr.  Terrison  replied,  "  You  see  and  judge  very  accu- 
rately. Madam,  of  thir.gs  as  they  have  been,  and  perhaps 
still  are ;  but  I  rather  think  we  have  a  second  Ganga- 
nelli  on  the  Papal  throne,  who  will  fill  the  scale  on  dio 
popular  side !" 

"This  is  <>rophecy,"  said  she,  smiluig,  "  into  which  I 
dare  not  enter ;  but  your  mention  of  Pope  Clement  the 
Fourteenth  recals  to  me  the  convent  of  his  private  days, 
•'.tached  tc  the  church  of  the  Holy  Apostles ;  and  that 
he  was  an  Obsenrantin  Fraadssan.     So  is  also,  I  think, 


f 


! 


.\-7issrs:"  f^'~^  r 


riii 


BOIOI  AND  TBI  ABBBr. 


Sit 


I 


I 


Cwdind  Michera,  Dean  of  the  Sacred  CoUege-yef.  he  ia 
not  in  Franciscan  brown  ?"  «g«— yer.  be  is 

Ji^'''"  "*?  ^/'  ^'"''*'" '  "  ''*  "  *>^  *•»»  t'ranch  -till 
well  remembered  in  Engla™j,from  the  name  being  re- 
tamed  m  London  of  the  pl««.  '  Grey  Frian,.' and  the 

his  beads,  &C.'    Ah,  that  Michera !"  added  Mr.  Tci-rison 

«nU.ng   "and  that  old  troublesome  question  of  the  ba! 

W  of  power  and  the  rights  of  the  people,  and  the  slip. 

pery  acts  of  those  in  high  office!"  ^ 

"As  the  Franciscans,"  said  the  Religious,  -  are  t<ie 
popular  Mendicant  Order,  they  are  the  repr;sentativt 
of  the  People,  and  it  is  consistent  and  righf  in  them  to 
w«e  all  their  claims,  short  of  imiovation,  just  as  it  is  con- 
^^n^  and  right  in  the  Jesuit  Order,  wh^  representee 
«^»to^n.cy,  to^m^e  their  claims,  short  of  innovation,  like 
our  Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons." 
At  this  moment  Lucy  entered,  with  delight  exclaiming, 

They  are  returned!    Miss  LUia  is  just  behind  m^' 
Mn  Everard  coming  up  the  stairs."    So  it  prove^  and 

^"dltr?ir'r.'""''^j*'^  ftomthrunex. 
pected  return  of  Mr.  Torrison  to  Rome.     «  '  should  not 

tore  been  *o  wantmg  in  respect  to  Mr.  Everard,"  said 

^earty  breathless  girl,  «  as  to  run  past  him  Lp  the 

■tairs,  but  he  desired  me  to  proceed  on  my  way  and 

zr':; ""« '^ ""  ""^'"^  *«  ^^^  y-  ^-^^^^ 

Immediately,  Reyerend  Mother." 

I   It'^J^'  '^'^^^'^^  ^^^"  "M  Mr. Terrison,  «•  what 
Hit?    Are  you  going  to  be  married,  Miss  Lilia?    You 

tre  Iressed  much  more  gaily  tbm  you  were  when  I  went 
On    >  ffaples." 


21S 


ROMS    AMD   THE    ABBET. 


"That  is  not  the  secret,"  replied  Lilia;  "and  as  th» 
Becret  is  not  mine,  although  I  know  it,  I  had  better  per- 
haps not  be  present  when  Mr.  Everard  imparts  it,  and,  if 
Revsrehd  Mother  pleases,  I  will  visit  dear  Sister  Agnes 
in  her  little  room." 

This  permission  readily  given,  Lilia  glided  off  by 
another  door,  just  as  Mr.  Everard  was  making  his  slow 
way  into  the  outer  reception-room  and  shaking  hands 
with  the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison.  "  Why,  you  seem  very 
much  exhausted.  Sir,"  said  the  latter, "  by  toiling  up  these 
four  pairs  of  stairs.  I  believe  this  good  lady  has  perched 
herself  here  on  purpose  to  prove  who  are  and  who  are 
not '.  r  friends.    Is  that  so,  Madam  1" 

"  Oh !  it  is  not  fatigue  of  body,"  said  Mr.  Everard, 
Beating  himself  in  the  easy  chair  close  to  the  trellis,  and 
responding  "  Thanks  be  to  God"  to  the  salutation  of  his 
Religious  friend.  "  It  is  not  the  body — ^it  is  the  mind. 
Sir ;  and  I  am  very  glad  to  find  you  here,  and  to  speak 
with  you  two  alone.  Have  you  any  one  with  you  in 
your  parlour,  Geraldine  V 

"  No  one,"  replied  she ;  "  you  can  speak  in  perfect  con- 
fidence." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  "  I  have  returned  to  Rome  a 
month  before  the  intended  time.  My  mind  has  become 
resolved  on  a  certain  point,  and  delay,  which  is  soothing 
in  some  states  of  the  mutual  process,  is  now  insufferable. 
I  am  determined  to  be  a  recognised  son  of  the  Roman 
Clatholic  Church,  by  reading  my  recantation  and  abjura 
tlon  of  former  protests  against  her ;  and  this,  my  deter 
mination,  took  place  at  Loretto,  whither  I  had  gone  un- 
doubtedly by  a  secret  disposition  of  Divine  Providenoei 


^WPlP 


BOia  Ain>  THB  ABBIT. 


sii 


ftttJiough  I  can  recal  only  a  romantic  sympathy  with 
pilgrimages  made  in  the  middle  ages  to  that  shrine.    I 
knew  perfectly  well  the  records  of  the  Sacred  House  of 
Loretto— that  it  is  the  house  of  Nazareth — that  house  in 
which,  first  announced  by  the  Angel  Gabriel,  the  Adora- 
ble Trinity  descended,  and  where  those  ineffable  nuptials 
took  place  of  the  Holy  Ghost  with  the  Virgin  Mary ; 
that  Joseph  there  endured  all  the  anguish  of  doubting  her 
he  venerated,  and  there  received  from  the  Angel,  during 
his  sleep,  the  assurance  that  the  *  Word  had  taken  Flesh' 
to  dwell  among  us.    There  did  the  Son  of  the  Living 
God,  Himself  God  and  man,  pass  the  eighteen  hidden 
years  of  His  human  life,  while  Mary  kept  His  sayuigsin 
her  heart.    And  I  also  knew  that,  up  to  a  certain  date 
(1289),  that  house  remained  in  the  sight  of  all  at  "^aza- 
reth,  and  on  the  morrow  it  was  seen  no  more ;  and  up  to 
the  date  of  that  morrow  no  such  house  had  ever  been 
seen  at  Loretto ;  and  yet  there  it  was — ^not  gradually, 
but  at  once  perfect,  having  been  borne  there  in  the  night 
by  Angels !    All  this  I  knew  historically,  and  I  journeyed 
there  with  interest,  conversing  with  and  instructing  my 
two  companies ;  but  when  I  saw  the  humble  dimensions 
of  the  home  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  felt  powerfully  moved  ■ 
and  the  splendour  of  faith  that  surroimds  that  little  cot 
tage  added  to  my  emotion.    Well  did  He  know  on  what 
land  to  present  that  relic  of  His  Life  on  earth !    Uu< 
doubting  faith — ardent  love,  in  every  token,  surrounded 
toe.    I  knelt  and  wept — and  then  I  drew  forth  my  little 
prayer-book  and  said  the  Litany  of  Loretto,  for  I  knew  it 
not  by  heart ;  and  I  repeated  with  increasing  hope  and 
^Mrmth  every  title  of  that  glorious  Mather  to  whom,  ia 


•  '  'iitii^iiVriiiiiiiiii»»y|ftiiiife( 


M4;  BOIU   ANA  ram  ABBKT. 

• 

that  houBe,  even  Jesus  had  been  '  subject ;'  and  when  I 
had  said  it  three  times,  I  began  to  converse  more  freely 
with  her  as  the  Mistress  and  Lady  of  the  house,  beseech' 
ing  her  to  accept  my  abjuration  of  all  protests  against 
her  just  claims  to  my  service  and  homage  for  ever.  1 
should  have  made  my  abjuration  at  Loretto,  but  the 
priest  there  recommended  me  to  come  back  to  Rome, 
and  to  make  it  to  either  our  English  Cardinal,  or  to  the 
Cardinal  Head  of  the  Propaganda  Fide.  So  here  I  am, 
and  here  is  my  secret,  Geraldine,  my  dearest  child." 

Here  Mr.  Everard  paused  to  receive,  as  truly  did  he, 
the  congratulations,  full  of  grateful  joy  and  emotion,  from 
the  filial  heart  of  the  Religious.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Ter- 
rison  then  wished  him  joy  with  all  the  pious  cordiality 
of  the  priest  and  the  Iriend.  In  the  mean  time  Mrs. 
Moss  and  Lucy  had  not  foi^ottcn  that  the  venerable  old 
gentleman  was  much  exhausted,  and  therefore  the  arrival 
of  refreshments  in  the  parlour,  and  the  return  of  Lilia, 
was  a  little  beneficial  interruption  to  his  strong  emotions. 
After  quaffing,  however,  of  a  certain  concoction  from  the 
hands  of  Mrs.  Moss,  which  was  "  a  secret"  in  its  way,  and 
partaking  of  other  viands,  Mr.  Everard,  with  renewed 
vigour,  poured  forth  his  abundant  thoughts,  and  at  length 
mentioned  the  subject  of  his  future  Confbssor. 

"  I  had  supposed,"  said  he  to  Mr.  Terrison,  "  that  my 
mind  was  xaade  up  respecting  the  Ecclesiastic  I  should 
prefer  to  receive  my  long  story ;  but  periiaps  Divine 
Providence,  in  bringing  you.  Sir,  unexpectedly  from  Nt,i 
pies,  intends  that  you  should  become  my  Confessor." 

"Oh,  God  bless  you.  Sir  I"  exckimed  Mr.  Terrison, 
M  do  not  fix  OB  me.    I  hnve  not  for  noany  years  heard  anj^ 


msmsmmmaamsmism 


&01U  AHB  TBI  ABBCr. 


tift 


eouAissions  but  from  Nuns.  I  can  raamge  their  little 
scruples  for  them,  and  explain  a  few  of  their  vwions; 
but  my  net  has  never  been  let  down  into  the  open  sea, 
and  with  such  a  great  fish  as  you  it  would  be  sure  to 
break !" 

Mr.  Everard  smiled,  but  his  colour  rose,  and  Le  said 
"'A  great  fish'  means  a  great  sinner !" 

"  Not  at  all.  Sir.  It  means  just  a  great  •  catch :'  either 
a  great  sinner,  or  a  great  genius,  or  a  great  man  in  power. 
AH  this  greatness  is  beyond  my  ability.  I  know  you, 
Sir,  to  be  a  very  learned  man,  and  to  have  rather  an 
eccentric  genius,  and  I  know  that  I  could  not  do  you  jus- 
tice.  There  is,  however,  one  in  Rome  who  will  be  mor« 
than  a  match  for  you,  and  to  him  I  recommend  you. 
Probably  he  is  the  very  Ecclesiastic  who  first  occurred 
to  you  r 

"My  intention  was,  and  is  agam  to  seek  the  English 
Jesuit  Father,  in  their  church  close  by  our  Locanda," 
said  Mr.  Everard,  appeased.  "He  is  your  Confessor. 
Geraldine?" 

"  I  am  grateful  to  say  he  is,"  replied  the  Religious. 

« Then  to-morrow,  please  God,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "I 
will  make  my  way  to  that  Confessional,  to  be  hooked  by 
that  great  fisher  of  men— not  to  make  mv  confession, 
however,  but  to  speak  of  my  abjuration,  and  a  few  other 
matters,  preliminary  to  bepmung  that  aforesaid  loqg 
biatory  of  seventy  yaata," 


iSm 


i 


fit 


■Om  AND  THK   iBMV* 


CHAPTER  XX. 

I  uindi  kraund  th«  world  mty  rcM^ 

'Without  the  power  to  think  or  feel ; 
Better  raeh  mindi  had  (tald  »t  home 
To  tend  the  plough  or  iplnnlDg-wheell 

While  (tall  of  mediUtlTe  power, 

Comparing  facU  with  primal  cauie, 
Whether  in  court,  or  camp,  or  bower, 

Othen  piogreM  without  a  pauie. 

Mr.  Evbbard's  Catholic  proceedings  were  oonduoua 
with  the  same  alternationa  of  communicativeness  and 
mystery  that  previously  had  attended  his  residence  in 
Borne.    First  he  uttered  aloud  the  various  reasons  that 
might  preponderate  in  favour  of  his  being  received  mto 
the  Church  by  the  English  Cardinal,  then  laid  down  the 
motives  that  might  influence  him  to  prefer  making  his 
abjuration  to  the  Cardinal  Head  of  the  Propagation  ot 
the  Faith ;  but,  after  stating  the  case  on  both  sides  with 
a  skai  and  enthusiasm  that  had,  as  he  intended,  excited 
some  curiosity  to  know  his  final  preference,  he  kept  his 
own  mysterious  counsel  from  all  but  Mrs.  Moss,  who  was 
to  make  her  protest  against  Protestantism  at  the  same 

"  I  wish,"  said  he,  "  to  make  that  choice  of  things  ond 
positions,  which  may  hereafter  cause  in  the  retrospect  an 
agreeable  sensation  to  the  mind,  of  suitable  cause  and 
efiect,  and  of  rational  embrace  of  opportunity."  Stil^ 
what  that  choice  was  remained  a  secret  even  to  Lord 


oonduoUd 
veneas  and 
esidence  in 
•easons  that 
sceived  iiito 
d  down  the 
making  his 
tpagation  o( 
1  sides  with 
led,  excited 
le  kept  Us 
>ss,  who  was 
at  the  same 

things  and 
etrospeot  an 
0  cause  and 
dty."  Still, 
ven  to  Lord 


KOMK   AND  TBK   ABDKT. 

Elverton,  when,  on  his  return  to  Rome  in  the  following 
month,  Mr.  Evcrard  challenged  him  to  fulfil  his  promise 
of  taking  him  up  those  celebrated  stairs  at  the  Sacred 
Oollegc  of  the  Propaganda  Fide  which  ho  hod  not  yet 
trodden." 

"But  my  appointment,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "with 
the  Secretary  is  not  yet  fixed." 

"  But  my  appointment,"  returned  Mr.  Everard,  "  with 
tho  Cardinal  Head  is  fixed,  and  fixed  for  to-morrow  at 
eleven  o'clock." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  smiling,  "  if  you 
already  are  on  such  terms  with  his  Eminence  as  to  have 
fixed  a  private  audience,  you  cannot  require  my  intro- 
duction, or  even  my  presence." 

♦•  Yes,  I  do  require  it — I  do  wish  it  and  adjure  you, 
my  Lord,  by  our  long  friendship  not  to  refuse  me  this 
&vour,"  said  Mr.  Everard  with  emotion. 

"Why,  Everard!"  said  his  Lordship,  surprised, 
**  what  means  this  ?  Does  the  mere  thought  of  visiting 
the  Propaganda  cause  this  emotion,  or  are  you  purposing 
something  ^eccentric  t" 

••  If  by  eccentric,"  returned  Mr.  Everard,  "  you  mean 
deviating  from  the  centre — ^irregular,  incoherent,  anoma- 
lous— ^I  am  not." 

«  Well,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  I  will  go  with  you  : 
but  if  you  intend  to  address  the  Cardinal  in  a  speeeh 
mixed  of  all  the  languages  taught  in  the  College,  or  any 
other  display  of  learning,  I  shall  take  French  leave." 

"  I  am  to  make  a  speech,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "  but  it 
shall  be  such  a  speech  as  shall  root  you  to  the  ground 
whereon  you  stand !" 
10 


1 


iikr 


S18 


ROME   AND  TBI   ABBKT. 


Lord  Elverton  laughed,  and  remembering  that  he  was 
too  well  known  to  be  made  ridiculous  hy  any  part  Mr. 
Everard  might  act,  the  appointment  was  fixed  and  id- 
hercd  to,  while  the  llcverend  Mr.  Terrison  toolt  care  oi 
Mrs,  Moss  and  an  English  friend  of  hers,  who  had  mada 
up  her  mind  to  the  same  step  into  the  one  fold.     ITiess 
two  respectable  females,  with  their  Reverend  Guide,  were 
already  in  one  of  the  ante-rooms  leading,  to  the  reception- 
room  of  Cardinal  Fransone,  when  L<,4-d  Elverton  and 
Mr.  Everard  passed  ihem,  to  the  ante-room  immediately 
odjoining  the  intended  place  of  audience.    After  a  few 
instants,  the  Reverend  Chamberlain,  who  had  preceded 
them  into  the  private  rooms  of  his  Eminence,  returned; 
and,  throwing  open  the  folding-doors  of  a  deep  recess 
they  found  themselves  to  be,  witliou'-  moving,  in  the  body 
of  the  private  chapel,  the  sanctuary  of  which  was  now 
displayed  to  them.     The  Cardinal  then  entered,  not  in 
his  private  soutane  of  black,  edged  with  crimson,  but  in 
his  state  dress,  with  rochet  and  stole ;  and  while  Lord 
Elverton  exchanged  greetings  with  his  Eminence,  Mr. 
Everard  received  the  written  act  of  abjuration  of  Protes. 
tantism,  and  the  moment  being  arrived,  the  Cardinal 
standing  in  the  centre  of  the  altar  platform,  with  the  sur 
pliced  Priests  on  each  side,  he  {Mr.  Everard),  a  late  hit 
sincere  confessor  of  the  Faith,  knelt  on  the  genuflectory 
placed  for  him,  and  read  the  established  Act  of  Faith, 
which  admitted  him  into  the  One,  fioly,  Cb  holio  and 
Apostolic  Church  of  Christ. 

After  this  followed  the  Conditional  Baptism ;  during 
which  simple,  but  ample  flow  of  water  on  his  head,  Mr. 
Everard's  repressed  emotion  found  vent  in  soothing  toara. 


I 


«■!■ 


at  he  WM 
piirt  Mr, 
(1  and  )«!• 
)k  care  oi 
bad  made 
i.     These 
uide,  were 
reception- 
crton  and 
mediately 
fter  a  few 
,  preceded 
,  returned. 
>ep  recess^ 
ti  the  body 
1  was  now 
■ed,  not  in 
son,  but  in 
vhile  Lord 
lence,  Mr. 

of  Protes. 
Cardinal 
ith  the  BUT 

a  late  b'lt 
Bnuflectory 
t  of  Faith, 
k  faolio  and 


m ; 


,  during 
head,  Mr. 
thing  tflvn. 


i 


ROME   AHD  THK   ABBBT. 


811 


The  doubl  j  Ibncnon  over,  our  old  friend  was  most  kindly 
addressel  by  the  venerable  Cardinal,  first  in  a  short  but 
imprejsivo  discourse,  and  then,  being  led  with  Lord  El. 
verton  into  his  Eminence's  private  room,  a  cheerful  and 
interesl'nx  conversation  ensued,  which  had  charms  so 
great  in  tUt  locality,  and  on  such  an  occasion,  that  Lord 
Elverton,  ha/ing  twice  mentioned  the  Cardinal's  early 
dinner  and  mid-day  repose,  and  fearful  that  China  cr 
America  might  be  mentioned,  or  the  missions  of  Oceana, 
fairly  bore  off  his  friend,  thi-ough  all  the  ceremonial  part- 
ing  liows,  to  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Here  Mr.  Everard 
remembered  that  to  descend  these  stairs  had  once  been 
the  chief  object  of  his  visit  to  the  Propaganda  Fide. 

"  I  cannot  hurry  down.  General,"  said  he ;  "  yon  may 
leave  me — I  know  my  way  home :  every  time-worn  and 
consecrated  step  speakj  volumes !" 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  as  I  cannot  stay 
to  listen  to  a  whole  library  of  the  annals  of  the  Faith,  I 
will  take  yoa  at  your  word  ;  and  as  I  shall  doubtless  find 
the  carriage  at  the  door  at  home,  I  will  send  it  for  you, 
or,  if  not  at  hand,  I  will  send  lago."  Accordingly  oH 
went  his  Lordship,  but  not  until  he  had  tawen  Mr.  Ever- 
ard's  hand,  and  said,  "  Here,  then,  on  thetK-  stairs,  I 
ccdially  wish  you  joy  and  feel  that  I  leave  you  in  a 
coantiess  company  of  unseen  friends,  to  whom  you  ore 
now  united  in  the  Paith." 

"  Could  I  foi^ive  myself  hereafter,"  now  soliloquized 
Mr.  Everard,  "  if,  remembering  that  I  had,  on  such  a 
memorable  day,  iescended  these  steps  without  that  ap. 
preciation  of  their  silent  sympathy  with  my  present  po. 
■ition — without  that  grasp  of  all  they  offer  me  in  tmd 


'  !l! 


ir 


880 


ROUE   AND  TOE   ABQEY. 


mony  of  the  heroic  faith  of  the  Church !  But  I  am  not 
worthy  to  treo,d  in  the  centre  of  these  steps — time-worn 
by  martyrs.  I  will  proceed  down  the  side.  And  why 
thus  late,  oh !  Theobald  Everard,  dost  thou  walk  the  way 
of  the  SaintiR !"  Here  he  stopped  and  wept — then  de- 
Mended  c  step,  then  stopped  and  wept  anew — till  various 
Ecclesiastics,  detained  beyond  the  usual  hour  of  suspen- 
slon  from  business,  passed  down  from  Monsignor  Bru< 
nelli's  rooms,  and  whispered  "  Piange  questo  Vecchia« 
rello !"  Then  a  young  secular  who  was  with  them,  sup* 
posing  that  the  stranger  was  dispirited  respecting  some 
application  made  to  those  in  power,  addressed  him  with 
that  affectionate  zeal  which  struck  the  grateful  chords  in 
Mr.  Everard's  heart ;  the  rest  drc^w  round  him,  and  it 
was  some  time  before  he  could  explain  thut  partly  regret 
and  contrition,  partly  joy  and  gratitude,  had  caused  him 
to  weep,  OS  he  thought  alone,  on  those  memorable  stairs. 
Then  followed  briefly  the  history  of  the  past  hour  in  Car- 
dinal Fransone's  rooms,  and  the  interest  around  him  in* 
creAsed  to  enthusiasm.  "  Eh !  proprio  e  im  santo !"  cried 
they. . 

When  they  were  obliged  to  pi-oceed  on  thoir  way,  the 
young  man  who  hod  first  accosted  him  remained  to  offer 
bim  support  down  the  stairs,  and  to  listen  to  his  furtho/ 
Gommeuts,  with  the  affectionate  respect  of  a  son  towards 
8  father ;  and  as  congenial  minds  soon  understand  each 
other,  Mr.  Everard  began  to  perceive  that  his  young 
companion  '.ras  no  ordinary  person,  and  before  the  car 
riage  arrived  had  ascertamed  that  he  was  the  young 
C«)Mnt  Giocchino  Bertinelli,  the  same  Ecclesiastical  law. 
yer  who,  first  introduced  by  Monsignor  Lenti  to  conduct 


^"^ORm 


IBB'"- 


But  I  am  not 

ps — time-worn 
d»5.    And  why 
u  walk  the  way 
wept — then  de» 
w — till  various 
hour  of  suspen. 
(fonsignor  Bru- 
questo  Vecchia- 
with  them,  sup. 
•especting  some 
rested  him  with 
■ateful  chords  in 
ind  him,  and  it 
Uit  partly  regret 
y&d  caused  him 
emorable  stairs. 
Mist  hour  in  Car- 
around  him  in* 
uu  santo  Y*  cried 

n  thoir  way,  the 

^mained  to  offer 

m  to  his  furtho/ 

>f  a  son  towards 

mderstand  each 

that  his  young 

before  the  car 

was  the  young 

clesiastical  law. 

jenti  to  conduct 


BOMB  AND  TBC   AVBIY. 

the  pr&ctical  part  of  Lady  da  Grey's  religious  s(rairs,had 
on  that  very  day  conveyed,  from  his  Eminence  Cardinal 
Acton  to  Monsignor  Brunulli,  the  necessary  written  in> 
formation  preparatory  to  obtaining  the  official  document 
called  the  Rescript  of  Encouragement,  containing  the 
Im  nlgencps,  partial  and  plenary,  for  wliich  she  had  peti- 
tioned, as  her  fiyst  step  in  the  proposed  foundation.  But 
Signor  Bertinelli  did  noi,  of  course,  reveal  the  secrets  of 
his  religious  client,  however  fkvourable  they  might  be  : 
he  had  merely  discovered  himself  to  Mr.  Everard  as  em- 
ployed as  an  Advocate  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court,  and 
then  on  his  way  to  leave  important  messages  with  a  lady, 
Arom  the  Se.'^retary  of  the  Propaganda,  and  from  his  Emi- 
nence the  H&id  of  the  Sacred  Hites,  Cardinal  Ferretti, 
should  there  be  yet  time  before  "  Mezzo  Giorno."  lago 
announcing  the  carriage  just  as  they  reached  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  enabled  Mr.  Everard  to  return  the  kindness  of 
his  new  friend  by  proposing  to  conduct  him  sooner  and 
with  loss  fatigue  to  the  destined  spot.  This  was  accepted, 
and  the  destined  6pot  proving  to  be  die  Loca&da  in  Pi- 
azza di  Ara  Coeli,  Mr.  Everard  permitted  Signor  Berti- 
nelli to  mount  to  the  top  floor  to  arrange  his  essential 
business,  while  he  retired  to  the  much  needed  repose  of 
t.1e  following  two  hours  of  the  day. 

After  the  departure  of  Signor  Bertinelli,  Lord  TSlver 
ton  came  to  impart  to  his  daughter  the  events  of  the 
morning,  and  much  interesting  communication  ensued  on 
boUi  sides :  fir  t,  the  actual  entrance  of  their  valued 
friend,  Mr.  Everard  mto  the  Church ;  n<>xt,  the  assuranca 
the  had  just  received  from  Cardinal  Fovrctti,  that  th« 
publi<3  grant  of  Indulgences,  according  to  her  ^>etition 


i 


Jp 


ist: 


22S 


BOMB  AND  THE  ABDET. 


would  be  accorded  as  soon  as  all  the  preparatory  formt 
ohould  be  complied  with. 

"  I  would  exhort  you,  Geraldine,"  said  his  Lordship. 
"not  to  be  disappointed  at  the  tediur  'hat  will  still  taka 
place,  did  I  not  perceive  that  you  have  already  learned 
Roman  patience.  You  tell  me  that  Cardinal  F'^  •  ri  ha* 
seen  the  Pope  (who  is  his  cousin,  you  are  a\  e),  and 
that  Hir,  Holiness  told  him  privately  that  he  saw  no  diiB* 
culty  whatever  in  promising  to  grant  the  Rescript  directly 
it  should  be  again  petitioned  for  through  the  Cardinal 
Head  of  the  Propaganda  Fide ;  but  many  months  will 
still  take  place,  depend  on  it,  before  you  see  the  precious 
stamp  of  authority,  which,  I  oondude,  you  will  kiss  as  b 
relic  r 

"  Additional  delay,  and  additional  trouble  to  his  Emi* 
nenoe  Cardinal  Acton,"  said  Geraldine,  "  is  given  by  the 
seemingly  worldly  documents  required.  I  have  been 
determined  not  to  be  discdified  at  anything  conducted  by 
authority  in  Rome,  and  therefore  I  am  waiting,  with  what 
yoa  term  *  Roman  patience,'  to  have  it  satisfactoi  "ly  ex- 
plained to  me  why,  in  addition  to  the  laudable  scrutiny 
made  into  my  life  and  conduct  in  the  world,  and  my  life 
and  conduct  in  religion,  I  am  to  produce  my  long  pedi- 
gr"3  and  revive  the  forgotten  honours  of  the  Cariingtons 
and  the  De  Greys?" 

"And  you  vrill  accept  no  explanation  from  me,  a 
worldly  secular  ?"  said  Lord  Elverton,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  will,"  returned  she,  "I  know  my  dear- 
est  Father  to  be  one  of  the  most  acute  and  correct  ex- 
plainers that  I  could  possibly  have,  of  the  discipline  ol 
the  Church." 


~--'0limii>i^immfmm)imm'^' 


BOUX   AND  TBS  ABBKT. 


fomu 

rdship. 
il)  taka 
learned 
'«;ihM 
e),  and 
nodifii* 
lirectly 
Ordinal 
ths  will 
trecious 
iss  as  • 

jsEmi* 
1  by  the 
re  been 
cted  by 
,th  what 
htiy  ex- 
scrutiny 
my  life 
ig  pedi^ 
uigtons 

I  mo,  • 

r  dear* 
Teot  e»- 
pllne  ol 


**  Tliis  is  the  explanation,  then,  to  be  given,"  said  his 
Lordship,  "  of  the  reasons  why  the  Church  requires  these 
documents  to  prove  thai  you  are  of  ancient  and  noble 
descent,  and  that  your  life,  previous  to  your  entrance  into 
Religion,  was  not,  only  without  reproach  in  the  sight  of 
man,  but  one  of  ease  and  elegance  as  became  your  birth. 
It  is  becauiie  proof  must  be  given  that  your  change  was 
a  nacrifice,  not  a  gain.  Many  persons  may  journey  to, 
or  rise  "uf  in  Rome,  of  an  ambitious  or  restless  spirit, 
who  having  no  other  way  to  become  celebrated,  may  be* 
think  them  to  climb  up  to  fame  by  means  of  the  Church, 
either  by  founding  an  Order  or  Congregation,  or  by  pro- 
phesying, going  into  extacies,  or  having  visions.  And  • 
person  of  low  birth  finds  it  extremely  difficult  to  get  any- 
thing done  for  him  in  Rome,  on  account  of  the  suspicion 
attached  to  his  purity  of  motive.  You  will  find  this  ex- 
planation a  correct  one,  because,  whatever  knowledge  I 
may  pi-eviously  have  had  on  the  subject,  I  have  improved 
it  for  your  sake,  Geraldine.  I  asked  an  Ecclesiastic  ot 
long-tried  friendship,  Canonico  Zacheria,  the  other  day, 
in  what  way  I  could  best  serve  my  daughter  and  her 
good  cause  in  Rome,  and  the  reply  was,  '  By  being  what 
you  are — a  nobleman ;  and  one  not  of  new,  but  revived 
and  t\nc<ent  title  ;*  and  then  followed  the  reasons  just  as 
I  liuve  given  tliem  to  you.     Are  you  satisfied  1" 

"  I  must  think  first  of  my  Father's  care  of  me,"  stud 
Geraldine,  suddenly  and  irrepressibly  moved  to  tears ; 
and  n  ehdi-t  silence  ensued  of  mutual  emotion.  She  then 
mid,  "  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  as  regards  myself— I  am  . 
the  gninor  l<y  this  captious  wisdom ;  but  I  cannot  help 
dwelling  with  commiseration  on  the  wounded  feelings  of 


mr 


SS4 


BOMK   AND  THE   ABBET. 


the  person  of  humble  birth,  who,  as  you  have  just  said, 
•  finds  it  extremely  difficult  to  get  anything  done  for  him 
in  Rome,  on  account  of  the  suspicions  attached  to  liis 
purity  of  motive!'  Can  anything  be  more  painfully 
ofTensive  to  an  upright  and  delicate  mind  than  suspicion 
of  its  pure  intention  ?" 

"  But  do  you  suppose,"  said  Lord  Mverton,  "  that 
people  of  low  bi»th  have  all  these  delicate  sensibilities 
which  are  the  honourable  torment  of '  gentle  blood '?" 

"  Oh !  often,  often,"  cried  she.  "  I  have,  in  my  life  ol 
a  Sister  of  Mercy,  often  found  in  the  lowliest  station  the 
purest,  most  delicate,  and  upright  feelings.  I  believe  in 
the  power  of  education,  of  association,  and,  above  all,  ot 
religious  principle ;  but  I  have  no  fixed  belief  in  the 
hereditary  transmission  of  heroic  sentiments." 

"  Still,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  from  what  you  have 
just  said  of  the  advantages  of  education,  association,  and 
religious  teaching,  you  will  find  that  elevated,  honour- 
able and  delicate  feelings  are  the  distinctive  prerogatives 
of  noble  blood,  although  I  grant  you  as  many  exceptions 
as  you  can  possibly  desire  among  the  sick  and  dying 
poor  whom  you  have  visited  as  a  Sister  of  Mercy.    And 
now,  my  dear  child,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  rising,  "  pray 
for  me,  that  I  likewise  may  have  Roman  patience,  for 
these  Indian  affairs  drag  on  to  a  tedious  length.    The 
compliment  paid  to  the  wisdom  and  skill  of  him  1  am  to 
succeed  will  detain  him  in  Calcutta,  and  me  in  Rome,  or 
elsewhere  in  Europe,  till  the  spring,  to  the  great  aimoy- 
wice  of  those  about  to  follow  me  to  India,  and  at  great 
additional  expense  to  myself.    However,  during  this  in. 
tcrval  Beatrice  has  her  children  with  her,  and  I  shall 


SOm  AKD  TBI  ABBXr. 


S*f 


that 


lave  further  proved  how  Ferdinand  likes,  and  is  liked  at 
his  college,  before  I  leave  him.  Tell  me  whether  It  was 
your  advice  which  induced  Lilia  Sinclair  to  decline  Leing 
one  of  Beatrice's  companions  to  Naples  1  It  was  aii  in* 
considerate  invitation,  m^de  unknown  to  me,  and  1  re> 
joiccd  to  find  that  the  young  lady  had  made  choice  of 
Assisium  and  Loretto." 

"  Lilia  did  consult  me,"  replied  her  Religious  relative, 
**  on  the  three  invitations  made  her  for  the  summer  '  vil< 
eggatura,*  for  the  Russian  Princesses  wished  her  to  ac- 
company them  to  Albano.  I  advised  her  to  accept  the 
offer  made  by  Mr.  Everard,  to  take  her  to  Loretto  and 
Assisium,  and  she  instantly  and  cheerfully  complied." 

"  Did  she  impart  to  you,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  that 
Ferdinand,  on  the  eve  of  our  journey,  besought  her  never 
to  accept  *  that  Frenuhman' — meaning  yoiuig  Arthur  de 
Grey,  but  to  wait  for  him  ?  This  I  heard  through  Donna 
Ouidida." 

**  No,  indeed,"  replied  Greraldine.  "  But  I  do  not 
think  the  silence  was  caused  by  any  wish  for  conceal* 
ment  from  me,  but  simply  she  did  not  understand  that 
such  a  boy  could  be  in  earnest." 

"  Do  you  think,"  continued  his  Loi^ship,  "  that  Miss 
Sinclair  intends  to  marry,  or  to  become  a  Nun  1" 

"  Hie  opinion  I  have  formed,"  replied  his  Daughter, 
"is  not  founded  on  any  certain  basis;  I  therefore  think 
t  would  be  premature  to  give  it,  even  to  you,  my  dear 
Father." 

Here  they  were  agreeably  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Mr.  Everard,  refreshed  by  his  repose,  and  fidl  t4 
calm  and  grateful  thoughts,  which,  in  hia  usual  felidtoua 
10» 


m 


3S6 


ROm  AND   TBS   ABBBT. 


muimer,  he  now  poured  forth  to  his  'willing  and  soon  sole 
auditor,  his  Recluse  Friend,  as  Lord  Elverton  was  called 
away  to  visitors,  and  arrived  in  his  own  suite  of  rooms 
just  in  time  to  countermand  the  illuminations  and  band 
of  music  which  Lady  Elverton,  in  the  innocent  fervour 
of  her  congratulations,  had  arranged  should  celebrate 
Mr.  Everard's  blessed  entrance  into  the  Church.  His 
Lordship,  however,  could  not  bear  to  witness  her  disap- 
pointment, and  that  of  their  little  daughter ;  therefore, 
with  a  caution  not  to  let  Mr.  Everard  be  aware  of  the 
extent  of  their  joy,  which  he  would  perhaps  consider  a 
reflection  on  his  former  exemplary  life,  the  lamps  were 
hung  mid  festoons  of  box  and  everlasting,  and  the  band 
struck  up  up  the  Papal  and  Patriotic  March,  stall  eiijoy* 
hag  its  first  enthusiastic  reoeption  in  Bome. 


\^ 


BOMC   AMD  TBK   IBBXY. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


Ah !  leare  th«  lily  In  the  ihada, 

Bsiwath  the  iheltarinK  thorn  ; 
And  cull  the  rote  of  lunny  glad* 

In  the  fragrance  of  the  morn. 

Th»  November  of  1846  had  brought  back  to  their  win 
ter  quarters  in  Rome  the  families  of  Lord  Elverton  and 
of  the  Princess  V.,  just  when  the  solemn  public  event 
was  preparing  of  the  Sovereign  Pontiff  "  taking  posses, 
sion"  of  the  Head  and  Mother  of  all  Churches ;  and  this 
final  act  of  inauguration  was  expected  to  be  unusually  in- 
teresting, as  the  Ecclesiastical  Procession  was  to  be  per- 
formed  on  horseback.  It  was  even  reported  that  the 
Pope  would  ride  the  white  mule,  tributary  from  the 
King  of  Naples ;  and  all  balconies  and  windows  on  the 
line  of  route  to  Saint  John  Lateran  were  hired,  or  begged 
for,  in  eager  competition.  Lilia  and  Lucy  were  taken  by 
different  friends  to  view  the  procession ;  and  entertained 
the  Religious  Sisters,  on  their  return,  by  their  various 
descriptions :  amongst  the  rest,  having  seen  Monsignor 
Lenti  in  his  purple  silk  hood,  looking  most  meek,  and 
resigned  to  the  apparently  novel  circumstance  of  finding 
himself  on  horseback.  They  had  also  recognised  other 
well-known  faces  in  the  various  ancient  costumes  proper 
to  that  occasion,  and  greatly  admired  the  Spanish  court- 
dress  of  the  Lay  Assistants ;  but,  on  the  whole,  the 
feeling  with  whidi  Lilia  reviewed  the  day  was  that  of 


II*' 


228 


ROUE    AND  THK   ABBET, 


disappointment ;  and  this  feeling  was  still  more  strongly 
expressed  by  Donna  Candida,  who  had  followed  Ferdi- 
nand to  his  sister's  room,  to  tell  of  the  day's  ceremony. 

"  I  witnessed,"  said  she,  "  that  joyful  day  of  the  eighth 
of  September,  when  you,  Don  Ferdinando,  were  out  of 
Rome — that  day  when  Pius  the  Ninth  kept  the  Nativity 
of  our  blessed  Lady  in  her  church,  called  '  of  the  People,' 
Santa  Maria  del  Pupolo,  and  went,  as  he  did  to-day  in 
his  state-carriage ;  but  ho  then  passed  through  the  tri- 
umphal archway  erected  by  his  grateful  people,  and  all 
hearts  were  so  full  of  enthusiastic  joy  that  no  shouts,  or 
music,  or  strewing  of  flowers,  or  waving  of  banners, 
oould  satisfy  their  excited  feeling.  Now  to-day  there 
seemed  to  be  a  hidden  damper  on  the  spirits  of  the  mul- 
titude— ^perhaps  they  were  disappointed  that  the  Cardi- 
nals not  only  did  not  ride,  but  aid  not  seem  disposed  to 
form  part  of  the  public  procession.  Many  of  the  Car- 
dinals  were  driven  by  a  private  way  to  San  Giovanni 
Laterano.    "Why  was  this  ?" 

"  They  were  in  a  political  '  brown  study,' "  said  Fer- 
dinand, "  and  so  wa«  my  Father.  Almost  all  the  time 
that  Letida  and  1  and  Arthur  were  amusing  ourselves 
in  the  front  of  the  balcony  in  Piazza  Trajana,  my  fiitbcr 
and  his  friends  were  prc^hesying  e^  from  the  Pope's 
liberal  sentiments  and  popular  concessions.  But  how, 
pray,  could  he  have  done  otherwise  than  he  has  done  1 
As  for  me,  I  like  this  Pope — he  is  a  fine  fellow !  So  tho 
more  my  Father  sighed  and  groaned  behind  me,  tha 
more  loudly  I  shouted  out  •  Viva  Pio  Nono !' " 

"  Don  Ferdinando,"  said  Donna  Candida,  "  you  must 
not  differ  from  your  noble  Father  in  anything,  moat 


JS$fim^' 


BOM  AWD  TH«   ABBKT. 


929 


aspocially  in  religion,  politics,  and  matrimonial  connoo- 
tion." 

"  Oh  f"  cried  Ferdinand,  laughing,  "  I  wi|]  take  you  a* 
your  word.  Donna  Candida :  I  vill  compromise  with  r  v 
lather  on  all  three  topics,  and  then  you  and  he  wUl  find 
that  I  follow  his  footsteps  too  closely.  Pray,  Lilia,  why 
would  you  not  come  to  our  balcony  tOKlay,  instead  of 
going  to  a  poky  window  with  old  Mr.  Everard  and  Mrs. 
Moss  ?" 

"I  was  invited  to  the  wuidow,"  replied  Lflm,  «'and 
not  to  the  balcony." 

?•  Not  invited  !"  exclaimed  Ferdinand  indignantly. 
"  There  was  not  room— there  was  not  room,"  inter- 
posed Donna  Candida,  hurriedly.     "And  now,   Don 
Ferdmando,  talk  a  little  to  your  Reverend  Sister.     It 
was  for  her  you  desired  me  to  come  with  you  up  here  • 
and  I  will  chat  a  little  with  the  young  people  about  the 
Spanish  costumes  that  were  so  much  admired  today.— 
They  were  introduced,  my  dears,  as  the  courtniress  of 
all  the  Laity  in  the  time  of  one  of  our  Spanish  Popes 
and,  being  so  noble  and  graceful,  have  continued  ever 
smce,  and  I  suppose  will  continue  to  be  worn  on  all  state 
occasion8.--Don  Ferdinando,  you  ought  not  to  «rbisper 
while  I  am  discoursing,  and  fc)  the  very  person  whom  I 
am  chiefly  engaging.    Tbk  is  not  the  etiquette  in  Spain 
and  is  a  little  too  rude  even  for  England,  especially  aJ 
your  most  Reverend  Sister  has  addressed  you  twice." 

"LUia,"  continued  Ferdinand,  "is  not  this  the  even 
mg  that  my  Mother  expects  you  to  join  her  in  the  ainir 
ing  lesson  V  ^ 


,4AA<ii 


><«&• 


'^Itriniii  If  iiiU 


IM 


ROUI    AND   TBK   ABBEY. 


"  Yes,"  replied  she,  "  and  therefore  I  had  better  go  to 
my  own  room,  and  look  over  the  new  trio." 

"  No,  no,"  said  ho,  not  observing  that  Donna  Candida 
had  left  them  to  give  honourable  notice  to  Lord  Elverton 
that  his  son  was  not  keeping  to  the  conditions  of  his 
visit :  "  No,  no,  Lilia,  you  do  not  require  to  study  and 
practise  like  other  girls.  Leave  the  music  alone,  and 
ibA  me  why  you  did  not  come  to  Naples  with  us  1" 

"  Because,"  replied  Lilia, "  Reverend  Mother  preferred 
Loretto  and  Assisium  for  me." 

"And  which  would  you  yourself  have  preferred  I" 
demanded  he. 

"I  should  have  preferred  Naples,"  said  Lilia;  "but 
afterwards  I  was  thankful,  as  1  always  am,  to  have  yielded 
to  her  advice.  My  attraction  to  Naples  was  from  the 
remembrance  of  my  early  classical  studies  with  my 
brothers.  But  what  have  I  to  do  now  with  all  those 
fictions  1  What  can  equal  the  exquisite  reality  of  all  the 
records  of  the  Saints  V 

"  You  are  a  Saint  yourself,"  said  Ferdinand,  "  and  you 
look  like  one  1  T  *  there  are  Saints  at  Naples,  both 
living  and  dead,  so  that  you  could  perfectly  well  have 
satisfied  your  devotion,  and  have  made  me  happy  at  the 
same  time." 

"  Oh,  yes !"  said  she :  "  since  Mr.  Terrison's  return  I 
have  become  acquainted  with  the  histories  of  Saint  Janu- 
arius.  Saint  Alphonsus  Lignori,  and  above  all  of  Samt 
Filomena,  who,  though  a  Greek  by  birth,  and  martyred 
in  Rome,  has  chosen  to  be  the  Patron  Saint  of  the  kuig- 
dom  of  Naples." 
••  Wo  visited  her  shrine  at  Mugnano,"  sud  Ferdinand. 


iiiiiak 


■■I'",.!"*! 


BOm  Ain>  TBI  ABBir. 


Ml 


;o  to 

ididft 
iiton 
f  bis 
'  and 
,  and 

errod 

redl" 

«  b«t 
ielded 
m  the 
I  my 
those 
all  the 

id  you 
both 
have 

at  the 

stum  I 

Janu- 

Sahit 

.rtyred 

eking- 

Uiignd. 


'*We  saw  her  miraculously  perfect  body.  She  must 
have  been  the  image  of  you." 

**  That  is  not  correct,"  "observed  Lilia,  laughing ;  "  an 
Image  cannot  precede  the  original,  and  Saint  Filomena 
was  martyred  by  Diocletian  in  the  fourth  century." 

"  Never  mind  verbal  slips  of  the  tongue,"  said  Ferdi- 
nand :  "  You  are  very  much  like  Saint  Filomena,  accord- 
ing to  those  whom  you  will  deem  better  judges  perhaps 
than  myself.  When  we  were  afterwards  looking  at  the 
most  beautiful  painting  there  is  in  Naples  of  the  young 
martyr,  Mr.  Terrison,  who  accompanied  us,  said  to  my 
Father,  '  Do  you  not  see  a  great  likeness  to  a  youiig 
English  lady  we  have  left  in  Rome  V  and  my  Father  re- 
plied '  Yes ;  and  to  another  English  lady,  now  a  Saint  iu 
Heaven — ^the  mother  of  my  daughter  Geraldine.' " 

*'  Lilia,"  said  the  hitherto  silent  and  unseen  Religious, 
"  you  can  retire  now  to  look  over  the  new  music  in  your 
room,  until  you  are  sent  for  by  Lady  Elverton." 

Lilia  instantly  rose  to  obey,  and  Ferdinand,  after  telling 
her  that  he  should  await  her  return,  remained  alone  with 
the  Sister,  who  had  been  the  ostensible  motive  for  paying 
this  visit  She  led  him  to  speak  of  his  college,  his 
studios,  his  devotions,  and  finally  of  young  Arthur  de 
6r6y,  smiling  to  perceive  that  the  two  youths  had  duly 
inherited  the  mingled  friendship  and  rivalry  whidi  had 
descended  through  generations  between  the*  Houses  of 
De  Grey  and  Carrington. 

"  Arthur  and  I  are  always  together,"  said  Ferdinand, 
«  and  yet  we  are  always  sparring.  He  is  a  better  scholar 
than  I,  but  then  ho  is  three  years  older — so  takes  the 
Isad  with  no  merit    I  am  not «  bit  annoyed  at  hia  i 


S8fl 


BOMB   AND  TBI    ABBKT. 


eeas,  or,  rather,  I  am  glad  enough  of  it ;  but  thei.  th* 
conceit  of  the  fellow,  to  think  he  can  ever  marry  Lily 
Sinclair !  lliat  slip  of  a  Frenchman,  who  will  never  be 
toller  or  stouter  than  he  is  at  nineteen  !  Tis  quite  ab- 
surd,  is  it  not  1  You  do  not  think,  surely,  do  you,  Sister, 
that  he  has  any  chance  of  being  accepted  ]" 

At  this  instant  Lord  Elverton  entered,  assigning  for 
the  motive  of  his  visit  that  he  had  just  seen  Monsignor 
Vizzadelli,  secretary  to  Cardinal  Ferritti ;  and  although 
to  an  acute  observer  it  might  have  appeared  that  hia 
Lordship  had  nothing  new  to  announce  in  the  progress 
of  his  daughter's  aflairs,  yet  he  engaged  both  her  and  his 
son  in  conversation  respecting  the  Sacred  Congregation 
for  granting  Indulgences ;  then  spoke  of  Cardinal  Ostini, 
that  fine  old  prince  of  the  Church,  who  was  then  at  the 
head  of  Sacred  Rites  and  Congregations;  till,  at  the  end 
of  half4Ui-hour,  rising  to  depart,  he  offered  to  Ferdinand 
to  take  him  to  the  Arcadian  Academy,  where  he  would 
hear  specimens  of  the  best  modem  Italian  composition, 
both  in  prose  and  verse. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  my  Lord,"  replied  Ferdinand.  "  It 
is  a  heavy  business  with  these  would-be  shepheids :  I  am 
more  entertained  at  home." 

"  But  you  ought  abroad  to  seek  every  varied  meuns  of 
improvement,"  said  Lord  Elverton;  "'for  home-bred 
youths  have  ever  homely  wits.'  I  preach  to  you,  Ferdi' 
nand,  nothing  that  I  have  not  myself  practised." 

"  Oh !"  cried  Ferdinand,  "  I  do  not  hope  ever  to  imitate 
you,  my  Lord,  in  your  active  and  successful  career.  You 
hBTe  'aohieved  greatness,'  and  I  have  'greatness  thrust 


llOia   ARD   TBI    ABBKY. 


238 


■pon  me.'    ITiore  fa  but  one  action  in  your  whole  litu  to 
which  I  aspire.     You  married  a  Sinclair— so  will  I !" 

"  Are  you  alone,  my  dear  Gcraldine  ?"  said  bis  Lord- 
ship in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  am,"  she  replied  ;  "would  my  dear  Father  wish  me 
also  to  withdraw  ?" 

"  No,  no !"  said  hf>i  in  a  louder  tone,  "  remain  to  wit- 
ness this  humorous  scene  of  a  boy,  not  sixteen,  making 
his  sokmn  choice  for  life !" 

"  I  shall  not  always  be  too  young,"  said  Ferdinand, 
"  to  have  my  solemn  choice  respected  ;  and  therefore,  my 
Lord,  I  give  you  fair  notice,  that  if  Lilia  Sinclair  will 
have  me,  I  shall  think  of  no  one  else.  You  said  yourself 
the  other  day,  that  she  becantc  more  beautiful,  because 
more  expressive,  every  yeai  5  and  by  the  time  I  am  of 
age,  she  will  be  only  three-and-tventy  and  five  months." 

"These  intermarriages,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  are  silly 
thuigs.  You  are  already  intimately  connected.  What 
more  can  you  wish  1  The  Clurch  does  not  sanction  the 
marriage  of  cousins.  Ah !"  continued  his  Lordship,  with 
his  never-failing  presence  of  mind,  as  the  outer  door 
opened,  "  here  is  your  cousin  Lilia  with  her  music-scroll ; 
we  will  escort  her  down  the  stairs  to  the  staging  appoint- 
ment." 

"  Cousin !"  exclaimed  Ferdinand,  indignant  at  the  men- 
tion of  a  difficulty  which  did  not  exist — ^"  we  are  cousins 
merely  by  courtesy.  There  is  no  real  tie  of  blood 
between  us  " 

Lilia,  who  had  unconsciously  advanced,  overheard  this 
last  speech,  and  totally  misunderstood  its  meaning.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  young  life  a  grief  pierced  her  heart, 


.  4wMSwdKIIIMK' 


'    I 


884 


BOHK  AND  TBI   ABBKT. 


different  in  its  nature  from  that  which  she  had  known  in 
pai-ting  from  her  brothers  and  in  thinking  on  her  distant 
home  ;  and  she  felt  bewildered  by  the  secjning  unkind- 
hess  and  haughtiness  of  Ferdinand.  She  mechanically 
lUaoved  down  the  stairs  with  Lord  Elverton,  whom  she 
thought  unusually  arable,  and  began  her  singing  lesson 
with  many  distioctions  and  but  little  zest,  Aftei  kind 
inquiries  from  Lady  Elverton  whether  she  we  ,  not  ill, 
tliH  master  proposed  that  the  young  lady  should  rest 
nwhilo,  during  a  duet  with  himself,  the  MS.  of  v '  ich  he 
placed  before  Lady  Elverton.  While  Lilia  sat  alone 
during  this  performance  on  a  distant  sofa,  many  former 
and  lonely  thoughts  recurred  to  her  mind.  She  wiped 
away  some  tears  which  had  fallen  on  the  damask  cushion 
on  which  she  leaned,  and  began  more  distinctly  and  prao> 
tically  to  recal  the.  promise  she  had  made  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Terrison  the  day  before  her  confirmation,  that,  like 
a  good  soldier,  she  would  not  lose  courage  in  fighting  the 
sprritual  combat,  but  would  mount  steadily  the  mystical 
steps  to  wisdom ;  and  so  absorbed  did  she  become  in 
these  good  resolutions,  that  she  never  perceived  the 
departure  of  the  singing-master,  who  had  arranged  with 
Lady  Elverton  to  give  a  double  lesson  in  the  following- 
week,  and  was  aroused  only  by  the  approach  of  her  Ijady- 
ship  with  some  aromatic  remedies  for  a  headache. 

On  the  following  morning  Lilia  was  fetched  by  Donna 
Candida  to  another  tete-a-tete  with  her  redly  kind  friend 
Lady  Elverton.  This  conference  was  important,  and  in 
a  few  days  its  subject  was  entrusted  to  all  those  who  hod 
Lilia's  true  interests  at  heart  It  was  no  less  than  the 
offer  from  Lord  and  Lady  Elvertou  to  indude  Lilia  iu 


/ 


imm 


-',miimiwmmiKumimM(MA 


lad  known  in 
m  her  distant 
ming  unkind- 
mechanically 
n,  whon.  she 
inging  lesson 
Aftei  kind 
',  we;  .  not  ill, 
r  should  rest 
.  of  V '  ich  he 
ilia  sat  alone 
many  former 
1.    She  wiped 
tmask  cushion 
ictly  and  prao- 
the  Reverend 
ion,  that,  like 
in  fighting  the 
Y  the  mystical 
she  become  in 
perceived  the 
arranged  with 
the  following' 
ih  of  her  I^ady^ 
eadache. 
;hed  by  Donna 
lly  kind  friend 
jortant,  and  in 
those  who  hod 
0  less  than  the 
adude  Liliain 


ROMC  AND  IBS    ^BIT. 


28A 


Ae  number  of  young  ladies  who  were  to  accompany  her 
Ladyship  to  Calcutta,  and  to  occupy  the  posts  of  "  Maids 
of  Honour"  in  the  Anglo-Indian  Court. 

Two  of  her  friends  had  been  immediately  referred  to 
—Mr.  Everard,  to  whom  her  parents  had  consigned  her, 
ard  Lady  de  Grey,  under  whose  Immediate  care  she  had 
been  during  the  last  year.  ITie  reply  from  Mr.  Everard 
was,  "  Tell  Lily  to  consult  Father  Duago  f  and  as  Lady 
da  Grey  had  given  a  reply  nearly  to  the  sane  punwse. 
namely,  that  she  trusted  Lilia  would  be  entirely  guided 
by  the  advice  she  should  receive  in  the  Confessicnal  the 
open  discussion  of  "LUia's  voyage  to  India"  was'  ex- 
changed  for  a  discreet  silence  until  Father  Duago  and 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison  should  either  agree  or  yield 
one  to  the  oth^r  respectuig  the  fate  of  their  spiritual 
charge.  What  LUia  herself  wished  remained  equally  a 
secret  until,  some  weeks  after  the  first  mention  of  the 
subject,  it  was  won  from  her  by  a  sudden  slaim  on  he- 
confidence,  in  the  following  manner : 

Lilia  l-ad  been  taken  during  the  octave  of  Christmas 
to  the  church  of  the  Ara  Coeli,  to  hear  the  infant  preach- 
ere,  who,  having  been  previously  trained,  exhort  their 
jlders  to  turn  in  love  and  penitence  to  the  Crib  of  the 
Infimt  Jesus.  Having  promised  to  give  a  description  of 
these  little  preachers,  and  of  the  scenic  representation  of 
the  "Stable  of  Bethlehem,"  to  the  young  Letitia,  Lilia 
on  her  return,  remained  *rith  Mr.  Everard  in  Lady  Elverl 
la's  drawing-i-oom,  expecting  Lord  Elverton,  who  had 
given  a  conditional  promise  to  his  little  daughter  to  take 
her  on  the  following  day.  The  condition  was  that  Ulia 
could  fiiithfuUy  report  that  no  riok  would  bo  mcurred  to 


il:SS!it^iii-^S*>i9^ik 


L    ." 


ROMR   AND    THE    ABBKT. 


Letitiii  by  the  pious  but  homely  crowd.  Letilln.  aftei 
eager  inquiries,  sat  watching  the  door  fur  her  Father's 
entrance;  while  Mr.  Evero.d,  pleased  to  exchang'e  his 
own  stove  for  Lady  Elverton's  open  French  hearth,  tools 
his  chair  within  the  gloss  screen,  and  put  his  feet  on  the 
new  logs  of  wood,  where  he  soon  began  to  doze.  The 
two  youths  from  the  Roman  College  n->w  sauntered  into 
the  room  from  pious  sight-seeing  in  the  churches,  and 
Lilia  removed  from  Letitia  to  the-further  end  of  the  room, 
where,  talcing  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a  pencil  from  a  table 
near  her,  she  began  to  occupy  herself  in  silence  and 
apart.  Arthur  and  Ferdinand,  instead  of  approaching 
her  &:  usual,  had  become  during  that  day's  walk  each  on 
his  guard  against  the  other,  and  had  each  resolved  on 
measures  prompt  and  hidden.  Arthur,  however,  drew 
near  the  table  covered  with  drawing  materials,  whence 
Lilia  had  provided  herself  with  employment,  and  himself 
began  in  an  opposite  comer  to  exercise  a  talent  over 
which  he  possessed  a  masterly  facility.  At  length, 
Letitia's  governess  having  entered  the  drawing-room, 
Lady  Elverton  withdrew  to  her  evening  toilette.  Ferdi- 
nand followed  her  to  commence  his  line  of  tactics ;  and 
immediately  Arthur,  moving  softly  to  the  table  where 
Lilia  was  seated,  entreated  her  to  excluuige  their  sheets 
of  drawing-paper. 

"This  is  not  drawing-paper,"  she  replied.    "I  have 
not  been  drawing ;  I  have  been  writing." 

"  But  would  you  not  like  to  see  my  dr« /ring  1"  said 
Arthur. 

"  If  it  be  well  executed,  and  s  sacred  subject,"  sidd 
LUia. 


ititia.  after 
r  Father's 
[chang'e  his 
icarth,  took 
feet  on  the 
loze.  The 
ntered  into 
irches,  and 
f  the  room, 
cm  a  table 
■ilence  and 
pproaching 
lik  each  on 
esolved  on 
ever,  drew 
>ls,  whence 
and  himself 
talent  over 
At  length, 
wing-room, 
te.  Ferdi- 
actios;  and 
able  where 
their  sheets 

1.    "I  have 

ving  1"  said 

bject,"  swd 


KOMB   AHD  TBI  ABBKT. 


287 


**  It  is  to  m«  a  sacred  subject,"  said  he,  "  and  if  we 
diiTer  as  to  the  merit  of  its  execution,  you  must  permit 
me  to  say  that  on  this  point  you  are  not  a  fit  judge." 

"  What  can  it  be  t"  said  Lilia,  moved  to  curiosity,  and 
turning  up  the  paper,  wUch  Arthur  had  laid  with  the 
blank  side  towards  her. 

She  had  too  quick  oc  eye  for  likenesses  not  to  recog- 
nise instantly  that  the  profile  and  figure  were  her  own ; 
and  while  she  doubted  the  intention  of  the  drawing,  an 
extract  beneath,  from  a  poet  who  has  but  too  well  known 
how  to  vary  in  every  bewitching  phrase  the  declaration 
of  young  earthly  love,  left  her  no  longer  in  ignorance  of 
Arthur  de  Grey's  sentiments.  Lilia  gently  placed  the 
drawing  reversed  on  the  table  agpii.,  at  a  little  distance 
from  them  both.  She  did  not  wish  or  think  it  right  to 
keep  the  poetry,  and  she  did  not  wish  or  think  it  right  to 
give  Arthur  back  her  picture :  it  did  not  occur  to  her  at 
that  moment  to  tear  the  paper,  and  titere  was  a  long  si- 
lence.  At  length  Arthur  whispered,  **  Speak,  Lili»— 
spcrk!" 

"I  will  grant  your  original  request,"  said  she,  "which 
was  to  exchange  our  private  papers ;"  and  taking  Arthur's 
she  now  tore  it  through  the  centre. 

"That  is  quite  useless,  Lilia,"  said  he;  "I  can  supply 
Its  place  in  half  an  hour." 

Lilia  then  laid  her  private  writing  before  Arthur,  aod 
•e  read  thus : — 


Oh !  I  wIU  ht  (h«  happjr  brid* 
Of  Him  thr  SainU  adora ; 

NoM  lower  can  content  my  piM* 
My  hMit  with  riotiM  itOM. 


iili 


iHIl 


I! 


Mg  aom   AND  TOB   AbttST. 

Thii  Mrih  ii  M  too  mMn  to  lora, 

It!  Uoi  »ud  Joy»  ■»«  ••»•'  •• 
But  In  the  BridU  Court  •bov«, 

Ther  wiU  k*  mine  for  aror  I 

Arthur  laid  his  head  on  the  .paper ;  and  Mr.  Eve»»rd 
having  been  roused  at  length  to  take  a  turn  up  the  room, 
received  Letitia's  little  hand  in  his  as  she  came  to  whis. 
per  to  him  "  Arthur  is  crying !" 

«  Then  tell  him,"  said  Mr.  Everard,in  a  more  audible 
tone,  as  they  together  approached  the  table,  "  tell  him  to 
weep  for  nothing  but  his  sins;  because  D.vme  Provi- 
dence  has  that  in  store  for  him  which  will  prove  far  better 
and  happier  than  what  he  would  himself  now  fancy  m 
these  boyish  hours.  Arthur  de  Grey,"  contmued  Mr. 
Ev.  ;ard,  laying  his  hand  on  the  youth's  shoulder,  Jer- 
vite  Dominum  cum  Letltia !" 

Arthur  raised  his  head,  and  fixed  his  astonished  gr«e 
on  the  noble  and  beautiful  child. 

« Is  this  a  prophecy?"  said  Lilia,  as  she  arose  to  leave 

the  room.  „ .      .•,      .  ^^ 

«If  it  prove  .0,"  replied  Mr.  Everard,  "it  will  not  U 

the  first  time  that  a  Carrington  has  consoled  •  JH 


.1 ,  .-^^^ 


•i'arfi 


HOIK   AHD  TBI  ABBXT. 


230 


.  Evertrd 
the  rowm, 
«  to  wlu9> 

re  audible 
tell  him  to 
ine  Provi- 
i  far  better 
w  fancy  in 
;inued  Mr. 
der,  "^er- 

lished  gtao 

)9e  to  leave 

will  not  b* 
wled  •  D« 


CIUITEB  XXIL 

Sit*  ine  th«  jroathfnl  heut  autalnpij  b?  juila—    " 

The  p.-omin  free,  the  tympatliy  iiiRcei<i, 
The  open  look,  the  unileaigninK  imlo, 

The  geMroui  Impulie  and  the  ready  tear. 

DcRiNo  the  weeks  between  Christmas  and  Lent,  Lady 
Elverton  was  «'  at  home"  on  all  Thursday  evenings ;  and 
these  soirees  were  generally  musical,  terminating  with 
refreshments  and  a  lottery  or  a  raffle.     On  the  first  of 
these  evenings,  which  occurred  a  few  days  after  Mr. 
Everard's  prophetic  and  consoling  views  for  Count  Ar- 
thur  de  Gr6y,  Lilia,  having  peiformed  her  awarded  part 
of  the  trio  with  Lady  Elverton  and  the  Professor,  retired 
amidst  enthusiastic  plaudits  to  sit  with  Letitia  and  the 
Governess,  a  little  apart  from  the  amateur  crowd  around 
the  piano-forte.    She  had  not  been  seated  many  instants 
as  listener  to  a  chorus  of  perfect  harmony,  when  young 
Ferdinand  stole  behind  her  chair.     "I  know  all  about 
Ind'A,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice ;  "a  fine  piece  of  policy  to 
t?ike  yoti  out  of  my  sight  and  marry  you  to  some  hanger, 
on  of  the  Governor-General ;  but  I  drew  it  all  out  of  my 
Mofcher :  she  cannot  keep  a  secret ;  but  she  is  an  angel 
for  all  thttt.    I  told  her  that  I  had  a  dreadful  headache, 
and  she  immediately  exclaimed,   'Tlien,  my  precious 
boy,  marry  Lily  Sinclair  if  you  cannot  be  happy  without 
her  !♦    So  do  not  think  of  India,  my  b&iutifUl  English 
Lily." 


:yy-^:rKTarrr^s^;v;;.-:B...:.:i^^  ,        ;^f»^ 


-',■   ■'! 


fl40 


HOME   AND  THE  ABBBT. 


"  I  do  not  think  of  going  to  India,"  replied  Lilia ;  "  hoA 
It  is  not  for  your  sake,  Ferdinand,  that  I  renounce  what 
your  Father  terms  '  the  brilliant  career  that  would 
await  me ;'  and  it  is  very  capricious  hi  you  to  say  so 
haughtily  one  day  that  '  there  is  no  real  tie  of  blood  be- 
tween us,'  and  the  next  to  call  me  yoiur  *  beautiful  Lily.' 
I  am  not  your  Lily." 

An  explanation  followed ;  and  before  the  final  close  of 
the  chorus,  which  had  been  repeated,  Lilia  was  assured  of 
Feidinand's  good  faith.  But  no  more  conversation  could 
continue  that  evening ;  it  was  not  till  a  fortnight  after 
that  she  cnijld  find  an  opportunity  of  declaring  to  him 
her  vocation  to  be  a  Nun ;  and  it  was  even  then  the  la> 
bour  of  many  days'  correspondence  and  conversations 
before  the  young  and  prosperous  Ferdinand  could  be 
persuaded  that  the  beautiful  Lilia  had  made  choice  of  a 
state  of  life  which  she  preferred  to  even  becoming  the 
Lady  of  the  Manor  Hall  of  her  childhood's  admiration, 
to  the  title  and  riches  which  were  so  attractively  displayed 
to  her  in  the  person  of  I^ady  Elverton,  and,  more  won- 
derful still,  to  the  generous  and  devoted  affection  of  the 
lover-boy. 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,  dear  Ferdinand,"  said  she, 
"for  all  your  goodness  to  me ;  I  am  very  sorry  to  seem 
w  ungratefiil ;  but  I  am  happier  with  all  the  thoughts  and 
affections  w^hich  fill  my  heart  and  mind  when  sitting  or 
kneeling  between  m/  cousin  Geraldine  and  Sister  Agnes, 
tlian  with  any  motive  which  you  can  urge  to  make  me 
prefer  to  be  with  you." 

"  But,  if  you  were  forced  to  marry  amy  one,  you  would 
prefer  to  majrry  mo  ?  Yoi  prefer  me  to  every  one  else  1 
To  Arthur  de  Gr^y,  for  instance  1    Only  tdl  me  tiiis, 


iiiii»iiiin"iiii'li[rHiiMiii'i 


ilia;  "Iml 
unce  what 
hat  would 
to  Btiy  so 
'  blood  be- 
itifulLUy.* 

lal  close  of 
I  assured  of 
ation  could 
Slight  after 
ing  to  him 
hen  the  la> 
nversationa 
d  could  be 

choice  of  a 
coining  the 
admiration, 
,y  displayed 

more  won- 
ction  of  the 

I,"  said  she, 
irry  to  seem 
thoughts  and 
m  sitting  or 
lister  Agnes, 
to  make  me 

e,  you  would 
jry  one  else  1 
tell  me  titis, 


ROME   AND   THC  ABBKT. 


Ml 


Lilia,  and  I  will  be  silent  If  you  were  compelled  to 
many  eiUier  Arthur  or  me,  which  would  you  chooae  I 
Speak,  I  tell  you,  Lilia !  If  you  will  tell  me  the  truth,  I 
will  tease  you  no  more ;  but  if  you  will  not  confide  this 
to  me,  I  will  torment  you  all  day  long.  Now  just  an 
Bwor  this  simple  question— which  of  the  two  would  you 
rather  marry— myself  or  Arthur  de  Gr^y  ?» 

"  ITien  you  must  never  tell  any  one,"  said  Lilia, 

"  No,  no !  I  never  will,"  said  he. 

"  But  you  must  promise,"  said  she. 

« I  promise,"  said  Ferdinand ;  «  and  I  never  broke  a 
promise  in  my  life." 

"Then,"  said  Lilia,  «if  I  were  obliged  to  marry  any 
one,  I  would  rather  marry  you." 

"  That  U  right!"  cried  Ferdinand.  "Well,  now  I  think 
I  can  bear  it  better.  And  now  tell  me,  LUy,  why  you 
prefer  me  to  every  one  else  ?" 

"It  would  be  very  difficult,"  said  LUia,  « to  give  reit. 
•onable  moUves  for  my  preferring  you  to  Count  Arthur, 
for  my.  reason  should,  give  the  preference  to  him :  he  is 
the  most  deserving  of  my  esteem." 
_  "  Well,  but  I  am  by  iar  the  handsomest  feUow,"  aaid 
Ferdinand,  "and  I  shaU  soon  be  as  old  as  he,  and  much 
more  manly." 

«  ^  ^**~  "*  *^  ^'^^^  insufficient  reasons,"  replied  she ; 
for  I  can  see  the  perfection  of  beauty  in  sacred  pictures : 
and  I  shall  not  like  you  better  for  becoming  more  man- 
Uke-quite  the  contrary.  I  feel  more  affection  for  you, 
because  you  are  stUl  a  boy,  and  remind  me  of  Fred  and 
Harry :  then,  sometimes,  when  you  are  neither  haughty 
nor  impatient,  you  remind  me  very  much  of  your  uncle, 
Don  CarloB,  whom  J  have  always  called  '  Father  Dui^  j' 


^m 


!  ; 


\' 


MS, 


SOIU   AKO  THS  ABBrr. 


■nd  whenever  I  am  reminded  of  that  holy  priest,  I  tiko 
recal  the  promise  I  made  to  him  that  I  would  never 
choose  evil,  but  always  choose  good,  and  prefer  God,  who 
is  the  Sovereign  Good,  to  all  His  creatures,  however  good 
and  excellent.  This  was  before  1  was  oonfirmed,  and 
since  that  sacrament,  which  bestowed  on  me,  among 
other  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  gift  of  '  Couusel,'  which 
is  the  power  to  choose  that  which  is  best  among  good 
things,  I  have  dcftcrmined  to  dedicate  myself  entirely  to 
God,  because  the  Church  gives  the  first  palm  to  conse* 
crated  virginity ;  secondly,  to  widowhood ;  and  last,  to 
matrimony — all  three  belsg  goi->d  anH  blessed  by  God. 
Mr.  Terrison  had  just  given  me  permission  to  make  this 
decision,  and  to  confide  it  to  your  saintly  sister,  who  I 
hope  will  really  become  my  Reverend  Mother,  when 
Lord  and  Lady  Elverton  invited  me  to  accompany  them 
to  India,  and  this  my  resolution  has  become  known  to 
them  and  to  all  my  friends  in  Rome." 

"  Oh,  Lilia !"  cried  Ferdinand, "  how  con  I  care  for  any 
one  after  you  1  I  shall  never  forget  you.  I  wish  I  could 
benefit  you.  Oh,  Lilia,  listen !  perhaps  I  can  benefit  both 
you  and  my  sister — ^but  this  is  a  great  secret— you  must 
promise  to  tell  no  one." 

"  You  mean  that  I  must  tell  no  one  out  of  confession  V 
demanded  Lilia,  "  because  I  must  not  receive  any  oonfi* 
dence  to  be  withheld  from  Mr.  Terrison." 

"Well,  you  may  tell  Mr.  Terrison,  bonajide  on  your 
knees  in  the  Confessioual,  between  the  Confiteor  and  the 
Absolution,"  said  he :  "  but  take  care  he  does  not  get  you 
to  give  tiie  least  hint  of  this  secret  at  another  time.  And 
now  this  is  it — ^but  it  is  a  long  story,  and  will  be  neoo 
wrily  made  Icnger,  because  you  know  ao  little  of  worldly. 


aom  AMD  TBC  ABBBT. 


M9 


aflbirs.    You  know,  however,  that  my  Father  btwain* 
Loid  Elverton  about  five  years  ago— yea !  (  waa  then 
between  ten  and  eleven  years  of  age.    The  title  was  not 
newly  created,  but  revived,  having  lain  dormant  during 
three  centuries ;  and  the  great  difficulty  to  my  Father 
had  been,  not  the  tracing  up  to  the  last  ptwsessor  of  th« 
.    title,  which  was  clear  enough,  but  that  this  last  possessor, 
who  died  in  1607,  was  a  Baroness  Elverton  in  her  own 
right,  proving  that  the  title,  in  default  of  a  direct  male 
heir,   descended  through  the  female  line.     Now,  my 
Father  knew  very  well  that  a  more  direct  descendant 
than  himself  existed  in  the  person  of  an  old  lady,  who 
was  most  tenacious  of  her  pedigree,  and  quite  aware  that 
in  her  lay  the  dormant  honours  of  her  race ;  and  as  she 
powessed  documents  which  it  was  most  important  fSjr 
him  to  see,  and,  if  possible,  to  have  cjopied,  he  paid  her 
ueveral  visits  on  his  return  from  Spain,  as  if  merely  from 
friendly  courtesy,  saying  that  as  they  had  no  nearer  rel». 
tions  than  themselves  they  ought  to  become   better 
acquainted.     My  Father,  knowing  the  disposition  of  his 
old  cousin^  confined  his  conversation  to  war  and  politics, 
and  never  approached  the  topic  he  had  at  heart  till  Mr* 
Haggerstone  Carruigton,  for  she  had  married  and  was  a 
widow,  began  at  length  to  mfonn  him  of  all  that  he  de- 
aired  to  know;  and  after  ascertaining,  as  she  thought, 
diat  my  Father  was  quite  contented  with  military  honours 
•nd  manorial  rights,  and  saw  the  fiil  force  of  her  claims, 
exclusive  of  himself,  to  the  dormant  Barony,  she  asked 
his  assistance  in  laying  her  case  before  the  House  of 
Lords.    My  Father  at  first  excused  himself,  and  finally 
was  prevailed  on  to  ^-eoeive  the  important  papers,  and 
frWB  Urn  tiiM  VofM  the  diplomatio  relatioaa  batweca 


■■■i 


■■ 


S44 


ROUS   AND   TBI   ABBBT. 


Iwc  most  consummate  politicians.  I  wish  you  wmld 
hear  my  Father  give  his  own  account  of  how  each  en- 
dcavoured  to  malie  use  of  the  other,  step  by  step,  till  at 
last  it  became  a  difficult  matter  how  to  proceed ;  and  I 
was  taken  up  to  London,  and  introduced  to  Mrs.  Hagger- 
stone  Carrington,  in  order  to  facilitate  a  compromise." 

"  This  does  not  interest  or  entertaui  me,"  sa-u  Lilia. 
"  I  always  feel  my  heart  quite  sink  at  hearing  of  these 
worldly  struggles.  It  is  very  wrong  for  baptized  persons 
to  seek  all  that  was  renounced  for  them  in  the  sacrament 
of  their  baptism.  What  did  it  signify  to  this  lady,  who 
was  a  childless  widow,  to  become  Baroness  Elverton  ]" 

"Why,  that  is  precisely  what  any  one  would  aak  who 
knew  less  of  human  nature  than  did  my  Father ;  but  he 
described  most  humorously  the  other  night  to  Mr.  Eve- 
rard  how  Mrs.  Haggerstone,  by  the  influence  of  hope, 
became  younger  and  younger,  and,  by  the  friendly  aid  of 
the  toilette,  younger  still,  until  it  became  obvious  that  she 
intended  to  marry  once  more,  and  that  the  wmfidential 
lawyer  was  the  favoured  man." 

"  Oh !  Ferdinand,"  said  the  wearied  lalia,  "  why  do 
you  talk  about  such  uninteresting  things  1" 

"  You  will  soon  discover  why,"  said  he ;  "have  but  a 
little  patience.  I  was  taken  to  visit  Mrs.  Haggerstone, 
and  she  happened  to  take  a  great  fancy  to  me.  My 
Father  then  made  the  request  that  she  would  take  the 
entire  cliarge  of  me  during  important  business  which 
would  detam  him  three  days  on  the  north  side  of  London 
—I  believe  he  was  the  whole  time  in  Berkeley  Square ; 
hnl,  however,  never  mind  that.  I  was  placed  under  the 
confidential  charge  of  Mrs.  Haggerstone,  and  really  was 
very  well  amused.    lagocalledonme  two  or  three  tiowa 


BBflBB 


ROM!   ANP  TBI   ABBBT. 


245 


»^y,  to  know  whether  I  were  happy,  and,  I  believe,  had 
a  lodging  during  those  three  days  close  to  the  very  ex- 
traordinary dwelling  of  my  new  friend.  We  went  over 
one  of  our  great  bridges,  and  through  a  wide  populous 
street  till  We  stopped  at  the  side  of  a  small  church,  and 
passed  under  an  archway,  and  through  strong  barred  gates 
into  a  iourt,  where  the  carriage  could  go  no  further.  It 
was  in  the  evening,  and  the  whole  affair  seemed  so 
gloom} ,  that  directly  I  leaped  down  from  the  carriage  I 
told  I^o  in  Spanish  that  I  would  not  stay  the  night  there 
unless  he  slept  in  my  room.  And  then,  to  get  to  that 
room,  I  had  to  be  shown  through  long  corridors,  open  on 
one  side  into  another  court,  with  a  little  garden  in  the 
middle  full  of  crosses  marked  O.S.B.,  which  means  Order 
of  Saint  Benedict,  and  I  was  informed  that  I  was  in  the 
ancient  cloisters  and  cemetery  of  the  Benedictine  Dames, 
Buppvessed  in  1 560,  of  whom  the  Abbesses  had  chiefly  been 
■elected  from  my  family.  Are  you  interested  now,  Lilia  1" 
"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  she.  "  Go  on,  Ferdinand." 
"I  was  then  shown  into  a  large  high  room  of  panelled 
wainscotting,"  continued  Ferdinand ;  "  and  in  each  panel 
hung  a  half-length  portrait  of  the  successive  Abbesses: 
some  looked  grim  enough.  However,  the  supper-table 
was  spread  and  well  lighted,  and  lago  remained  until  the 
lady  of  the  cloistered  mansion  came  in,  dressed  most 
queerly,  so  that  I  scarcely  recognised  her  again.  She 
embraced  me,  and  welcomed  me  to  the  chapter-room  of 
•  London  Abbey,'  for  so  she  aflirmed  these  old  premises 
Lad  a  right  to  be  called.  And  then,  while  I  feasted  on 
•11  sorts  of  dainties,  she  gave  me  the  long  history  of  the 
rise  and  fall  of  the  Abbey,  which  I  will  tell  you  some 
•tlier  time,  because  my  chief  aim  is  to  interest  you  la 


i 


I 


I 


24t 


HOMI   AND  mi   ABBKT. 


li. 


the  locality.     After  rapper  Mrs.  Haggerstono  further 
informed  ine  that  the  little  church  at  the  entrance-gate 
belonged  by  right  to  the  property,  but  that,  in  order  to 
secure  it  for  Catholic  use,  it  had  been  ceded  to  a  foreign 
embaiisy,  and  that  we  should  have  our  night-prayers  in 
the  Nuns'  private  choir,  which  had  become  her  chapel. 
Tliither  we  went,  and  a  very  pretty  chapel  she  hiid  made 
•t  the  altar  end,  but  it  was  awfully  gloomy  where  we 
knelt;  and  when  she  stuck  me  into  a  high  niche,  which 
she  termed  a  'stall,'  I  felt  stifled  by  the  ghost  of  some 
former  occupant,  and  called  out,  '  lago,  come  here,  and 
bring  some  lights !'  which  he  told  me  afterwards  was  a 
most  daring  innovation  on  the  routine  and  discipline  of 
the  house ;  but  nothing  I  did  could  offend  her,  and  yet 
I  must  have  tried  her  patience  pretty  well.     My  bed- 
room was  called  '  the  Bishop's  room,'  and  was  a  very 
handsome  apartment,  with  folding  doors  opening  into  a 
deep  recess,  fitted  up  like  the  sanctuary  of  a  chapel— just 
as  the  Cardinals  have  their  private  chapels  here  in  Rome. 
In  the  morning,  when  lago  opened  the  windows,  a  great 
contrast  was  presented  to  the  gloom  of  the  other  side  ot 
the  house  as  seen  by  twilight.    There  was  the  old-fash- 
ioned garden  beneath,  looking  as  trim  and  neat  as  a 
monastic  garden  ought  to  look,  and  beyond  it  the  gablo- 
ends  and  pinnacles  of  the  well-preserved  old  Abbey, 
which  retams  its  cloistral  manner  of  looking  into  itself^— 
I  suppose,  to  set  the  example  of  self-examination.     The 
part  of  the  building  which  contained  the  Nuns'  cells  was 
at  right  angles  with  the  Bishop's  rooms,  and  all  their 
windows  were  turned  to  the  south-cast,  away  from  ob- 
ecrvation,  into  their  own  private  garden.     I  was  shown 
over  the  whole  of  those  ancient  premises,  which  are  still 


1 


ROm   AMD  THI  ABBlt. 


^»^ 


In  exAdllflnt  repair,  above  all,  the  kitchens  and  refectory. 
There  is  a  good  orchard  and  also  a  meadow,  independent 
of  the  ncoxest  nursery  ground,  which  belong  to  the  pro- 
perty. I  did  not  pay  all  this  exact  attention  at  the  period 
of  my  first  visit  to  Mrs.  f  laggcrstonc,  but  have  bad  rea- 
son since  to  make  myself  acquainted  with  all  particulars, 
as  this  property  is  bequeathed  direct  to  me ;  and  now 
that  more  than  ever  I  am  interested  in  this '  London  Ab- 
bey,' 'as  it  was  once  called,  I  will  show  you  the  plan  of 
the  premises  as  they  now  are ;  and  if  you  like  them, 
Lilia,  I  will,  when  I  come  of  age,  present  them  to  my  Sister 
and  her  Community  for  your  sake,  for  she  is  founding 
her  Institute  on  the  Benodietine  rule  and  government, 
and  intends  to  establish  the  Perpetual  Adoration  as  it  is 
in  Rome,  for  the  public  benefit  as  well  as  for  the  devo- 
tion of  the  Convent,  which,  if  we  can  get  the  devotion 
introduced  into  that  little  church,  will  exactly  suit  the 
■London  Abbey.    Are  you  pleased,  Lilia '{** 

"  I  think  that  you  have  a  very  good  heart,  Ferdinand ; 
and  I  would  rather  have  you  for  the  Benefiictor  of  our 
Convent  tlian  any  one  else,  and  it  will  always  be  with  a 
full,  grateful  heart  I  shall  pray  for  you.  I  shall  like 
whatever  you  like  for  our  foundation  in  England ;  but  I 
l)cliuve  that  I^y  de  Grey  expects  to  fix  in  the  country, 
and  I  love  the  country  best." 

"  We  shall  see!"  said  Ferdinand.  There  is  an  old 
rhyming  prophecy,  which  Mrs.  Haggerstone  fancied  to 
oentre  in  hornelf,  but  which  I  think  more  applicable  to 
Dt}  sister  Geraldinc.    It  runs  thus : — 

" '  Oar  Uradon  Mibtf  fleapi  bcoMth  the  graand. 
Until  •  widowed  CarringtoB  tw  found, 
Who  (haU  mnlack  the  msMive  hidden  (ata^ 
And  ralie  onr  hoaout*  tu  their  anoiant  itata-' " 


mr-TM 


t48 


BOMK  AND  TBB  ABBBT. 


CHAPTERXXIIL 

"  Chnd  of  the  MM !"  fhy  fovwrad  era 

Beholdi  at  length  the  uoniiiig  t^u, 
Which,  beaming  in  the  eutem  Bicy, 

Ouidei  to  the  rock  beheld  efitr. 

Oh  the  17th  of  January,  1847,  our  English  Pilgrim 
reooived,  from  the  most  Reverend  Secretary  of  the  Propa- 
ganda Fide,  the  Bescript  of  Indulgences  so  long  desired, 
BO  ardently  prayed  for;  and  immediately  calling  her 
Sisters  in  Religion,  they  together  said  with  grateful 
heejt  the  "  Magiiificate,"  the  98th  and  150th  Psalms,  the 
•'  Ptenedictus,"  and  the  glorious  «  Te  Deum."  This  Re- 
script of  Indulgences  was,  as  Monsignor  Brunslli  hira- 
Beli  informed  her,  a  "  Rescript  of  Encouragement''  for 
the  Religious  Institute  she  was  hoping  to  found ;  and 
•fter  Lord  Elverton  had  perused  it,  he  congratulated 
her,  as  did  all  her  ecclesiastical  friends,  telling  her  that 
success  was  now  a  mere  question  of  time  and  patience. 
On  the  following  day,  the  Religious,  accompanied  by 
Sister  Agnes,  went  to  return  her  grateful  acknowledg- 
ments to  his  Emmenca  Cardintil  Acton,  who  had  chiefly 
aided  -to  procure  this  valuable  Papal  permission,  but 
who  would  receive  no  thanks  from  our  Pilgrim,  saying 
that  the  success  was  all  owing  to  her  '  own  fame  and 
merit.'  "Did  that  saintly  being  suppose,"  said  she 
afterwards,  "  that  I  was,  like  himself,  ao  groimded  in 
buciility  that  I  could  bear  his  praise  I" 


ish  Pilgrim 
>fthePrcpa- 
ong  desired, 
calliog  her 
ith  grateful 
Ptialms,  the 
'  This  Re- 
runslli  hira- 
jement''  for 
found;  and 
>ngratulated 
ng  her  that 
id  patience, 
npanied  hy 
uiknowledg- 
I  had  chie% 
mission,  hut 
rim,  saying 
a  fame  and 
,"  said  she 
;roimded  in 


KOMB  AHD  TKB  ABBET. 


240 


With  thankful  heart  she  now  applied  herself  with 
renewed  zeal  to  forward  the  good  woik ;  and  about  a 
fortnight  after  was  occupied  in  writing  an  important 
letter  to  England,  when  Felicia,  the  Italian  maid-servant, 
interrupted  her  with  the  notice  that  a  tall  lady  in  black 
was  in  the  ante-room,  waiting  to  be  admitted.  The  Re- 
ligious, scarcely  interrupting  the  rapidcou.t,o  of  her  pen, 
told  the  servant  to  ask  for  j  lady's  card,  luid  in  «  few 
instants  Felicia  re~tumed,  stating  that  the  lady  had  en* 
tered  the  parlour,  and  desired  her  to  say  that  she  had 
played  her  cards  too  well  to  have  any  left,  and  that  she 
hoped  the  Reverend  Mother  would  not  keep  her  long 
waiting,  for  fear  her  heart  would  leap  over  the  gratijg! 
The  delighted  Felicia  added,  "Tanto  allegra  qu^sta 
Signora,  proprio  6  cara  cara."  Making  an  act  of  patience; 
our  Religious  moved  with  listless  step  to  the  grating, 
saying  the  accustomed  "  Let  us  bless  the  Lord !" 

"  With  all  my  heart,  you  dear  blessed  creature  !'*  ex* 
claimed  the  visitor. 

The  next  words  were,  "Oh,  Katherine !"— ••  Oh, 
Geraldinel" 

Tlien,  after  a  pause,  this  truly  welcome  Tisitor  b«g«n, 
*♦  I  have  much  to  tell,  and  much  to  hear,  my  ever  beloved 
friend.  As  to  the  much  I  have  to  tell,  I  should  havo 
told  it  all. three  vears  ago,  had  I  not  found  diat  you 
were  at  yo':r  clu,  weli  recognised,  and  most  charac- 
ter otiv  hunt  aster  perfection ;  and  as  I  was  reading  the 
life  of  r^iin'  Benedict  Biscop  just  at  the  time  I  hiAtd  of 
your  leaving  the  Elverton  Convent,  and  had  counted 
that  he  was  at  seventeen  monasteries,  before  he  JMt  ss> 
tiafied  to  begin  Weremouth  and  Jarrow,  I  supposed  th»> 
11* 


,™..-....w 


■a 


d 


r^-y^ 


SAO 


ROME    AND   THE    ABBHT. 


your  moDsstic  tour  vjuld  include  an  nioiiy :  howevei,  it 
eeems  Ihat  you  ha^e  been  more  mrklerate,  And  now, 
why  was  I  reading  tiie  life  of  Saint  Benedict  Biscop,  or 
of  any  Popish  Saint  t  Behold  the  reason  !  I  became  a 
Popish  sinner  just  three  years  ago,  in  our  good  old  city 
of  Edinbf.rgh,  and  packed  off  all  my  Presbyterian  lU 
brary  to  sail  across  the  Frith  of  Forth  to  an  invincibly 
ignorant  old  cousin  in  Forfarshire.  Oh !  so  you  are  say- 
ing  the  Te  Ttum,  my  own,  ever-ardent  Geraldme !  I 
do  not  know  it  yet  by  heart,  so  I  will  be  silent  and  jom 
in  spirit." 

The  hallowed  hymn  of  joy  was  scarcely  concluded 
before  the  two  friends  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Mr.  Everard ;  but  to  interesting  was  this  renewal  of 
friendship  to  both  him  and  Miss  Graham,  that,  durii^ 
the  absorbing  conversation  which  followed,  the  Religious 
remained  silently  praising  God  in  grateful  tears. 

Other  interruptions,  of  a  less  agreeable  4ind  congenial 
nature,  at  length  occurring.  Miss  Graham  retired  within 
■the  private  suite  of  i-ooms  occupied  by  the  Religious 
Sisters,  and  renewed  a  scarcely  remembered  inendslup 
with  the  blushing  and  delighted  Lilia,  who,  directly  she 
was  informed  that  Mis«!  Graham  had  become  a  Catholic, 
took  for  granted  thpt  she  intended  to  become  a  Nun. 

"  What  a  happy  party  we  shall  be,  dear  Miss  Graham," 
raid  she,  "  all  loving  and  serving  Qod  under  the  same 
roof,  and  hearing  each  other's  voices  only  when  utter* 
uig  His  praises !" 

"  God  bless  the  poor  child  P  cried  Miss  Graham ; 
"  what!  is  she  never  to  speak?** 

"Oh,  yes !"  said  Lilia,  "I  may  speak  when  spdcen  to 
by  Superiors,  and  if  they  give  me  leave ;  and  I  may  apeak 


J 


',.  v-VwrnrtHBWWW 


ROMS    ASD  TBB   ABBET. 


851 


to  my  Sister  Novices  at  Ae  daily  recreations ;  but  when 
I  am  professed  I  shall  have  to  speak  only  on  great  festi- 
vals at  recreation." 

"  And  you  are  looking  forward  to  this  almost  perpe- 
tual silence  as  to  a  great  boon,  you  wonderful  girl?" 
said  Katherine. 

"  Oh,  but  I  am  not  to  be  silent  in  the  choir !  I  shall 
chant  and  sing  there,  and  read  aloud  in  the  chapter-room 
luid. refectory.  Surely  it  was  among  the  designs  of 
Divine  Providence  that  I  was  taught  Latin  by  my 
brothers'  tutor,  and  have  now  acquired  the  proper  pro- 
nunciation of  it  in  Rome :  for  I  may  hope  to  be  useful 
In  the  choir ;  and  I  am  afraid  I  can  be  useful  nowhere 
else  in  the  convent." 

After  a  few  more  comments  on  each  side,  Lilia  had 
again  inquired  "  How  soon  shall  you  be  able  to  become 
0  Novice,  Miss  Graham  1"  when  the  Senior  Religious 
Sister  entered  the  inner  room ;  and  the  warm-hearted 
Katherine,  on  seeing  her  without  the  impediment  of  a 
grating,  rushed  to  her,  saying,  "  What  possible  use  can  I 
ever  be  to  you,  my  precious  .Geraldine  1" 

"Why,"  said  the  latter,  extricating  herself  from 
Katherine's  fervent  embrace,  "  if  you  will  promise  not 
to  kiss  me,  I  think  you  will  make  an  admirable  '  Mother 

Almoner.' " 

"  But  if  the  Mother  Almoner  may  not  kiss,  may  she 
talk  1"  cried  Miss  Graham,  laughing.  "  Pray  who  is  this 
Mother  Almoner  1" 

"  You  shall  hear  of  all  her  qualities  and  duties  in 
course  of  dme,"  replied  the  Religious,  again  silently 
returning  thanks  to  God,  as  she  looked  from  Katherine 
,»  Lili»,  both  united  with  her  now  in  &ith  &a  in  affeo- 


Uifl 


I 


K 


S5S 


ROMS    AND   THB    ABBKT. 


tion.  "  And  how  long  have  you  been  in  Boino,  Haas 
Katherine  ?"  said  she. 

"  Since  last  night,"  replied  Miss  Graham ;  "  and  thia 
morning  I  resisted  the  temptation  of  going  to  Mass  first 
at  the  Scots'  Church,  and  drove  magnanimously  to  St. 
Peter's,  after  which  my  only  thought  was  of  you.  I  am 
St  present,  with  my  own  two  Scotch  servants  and  my 
Italian  '  Minister  for  foreign  affairs,'  at  a  liighly-respect- 
able  and  highly-expensive  hotel,  under  the  invocation 
and  protection  of  the  pagan  goddess  of  Wisdom,  close 
by  here.  I  was  going  in  for  a  few  minutes  to  the  church 
opposite  my  windows  to  beg  a  blessing  on  our  meeting, 
but  finding  that  'Minerva'  presided  lilcewise  over  the 
church,  I  came  here  first  for  an  explanation  of  the 
mystery." 

"  The  mystery  consists,"  replied  the  Religious,  "  in  the 
habit,  common  to  all  nations,  of  abridging  titles  in  com- 
mon parlance.  You  are  living  opposite  the  church  once 
a  pagan  temple,  and  now  entitled  '  Santa  Maria  sopra 
Minerva.'  As  there  are  so  many  churches  in  Rome  de- 
dicated to  the  Mother  of  God,  it  is  quite  necessary  to 
distinguish  them  from  each  other ;  and  this  title,  which 
announces  the  victory  of  Christian  truth  over  pagan 
fiction,  has  been  abridged  in  all  the  carelessness  of 
security,  till,  as  you  justly  object,  it  actually  seems  to 
place  church,  square,  and  hotel  under  the  continued  pro- 
tection of  the  fabled  goddess." 

"  I  have  arrived  in  Rome,"  continued  Miss  Graham, 
"  fully  determined  to  probe  to  the  bottom  every  appa- 
rent scandal,  with  an  equal  determination  to  find  that  th« 
hidden  cause  is  either  the  frailty  of  poor  human  nature, 
or  my  own  misconception  of  the  effect ;  and  that,  as  a 


r??-.'.'^  ■'"■-'*f 


•mmmnmmmmm 


J- 


(iuai 


' 


HOME   Ain>  THC   ABBEY. 


258 


logical  necessity,  nothing  evi}.  can  arise  from  the  fitith  of 
the  Church." 

"  Miss  drrahaiP,"  said  Lilia,  "  what  made  you  become 
a  Catholic  r 

"That  is  a  frank  question,  Lily,"  returned  she,  smiling. 

"  And  one,"  said  Lilia,  colouring  deeply,  "  that  perhteps 
I  ought  not  to  have  asked.  You  perceive  now.  Miss 
Graham,  the  advantage  of  holy  silence,  which  not  only 
positively  prevents  intrusive  questions,  but  promotes 
such  a  habit  of  prudence  and  recollection  as  insures  a 
person,  even  when  speaking,  from,  offending  by  the 
tongue.  Sister  Agnes  possesses  this  holy  prudence  as 
much  as  Reverend  Mother." 

"  You  have  not  offended  me  at  all,"  said  Miss  Graham, 
"  so  need  not  visit  on  yourself  and  me  this  self-inflicted 
reprehension,-  my  humble  Lily.  But  the  history  of  my 
conversion  to  the  Church  must  not  be  entered  upou  to- 
day. Sufficient  that  to-day  I  made  known  the  blessed 
feet,  and  heard  the  words  of  Church  thanksgiving  from 
the  lips  of  her  I  love  best  on  earth." 

As  the  evening  advanced,  and  those  of  the  Carrington 
femily  who  had  been  dispersed  now  met  in  a  sociablo 
oirde,  with  their  usual  intimates,  in  Lady  Elverton's 
warmest  drawing-room,  the  welcome  news  became  known 
that  Lady  de  Grey's  early  and  dear  friend.  Miss  Graham, 
had  arrived  in  Rome — ^was  actually  in  the  house,  and  had 
become  a  Catholic  three  years  before ;  with  the  addi- 
tional comments,  that,  whereas  Katherine  Graham  had 
in  earlier  life  been  too  thin  for  her  marked  features,  and 
had  been  often  marred  by  too  flushed  a  skin,  she  had  now 
k  maturet  years,  become  a  very  fine  and  handsome 
(roman,  had  aucceeded  to  a  very  pretty  fortune,  and  waa 


■■ 


u 


as  warm-hearted  and  pleasant  aa  ever.    "Hie  next  act  «•■ 
Lord  Elverton's  mounting,  with  his  young  son,  to  the 
upper  suite  of  rooms,  thore  to  welcome  and  congratulate 
Miss  Graham,  and  to  express,  as  he  truly  felt,  for  his 
daughter  and  himself,  his  joy  to  fcr-et  her  once  more. 
♦'  Can  you  spare  us  the  last  half-hour  of  your  evening?" 
said  his  Lordship :  "  Beatrice  was  too  fearful  of  mtruding 
to  venture  up  stairs;  but  she  hopes  that  on  your  way  to 
your  carriage  you  will  permit  her  to  express  in  person 
her  participation  in  our  jov."    Katherine  did  concent, 
and  during  her  evening  visii,  which  extended  to  an  hour, 
became  personally  interested  in  the  topic  discussed  with  . 
solicitude  by  Mr.  Everard,  and  with  earnest  sympathy 
by  the  rest  of  the  domestic  party.    This  was  the  pro- 
posed public  presentation  to  his  Holiness  Pius  the  Ninth, 
of  the  body  of  English  converts  then  in  Rome. 

"  A  highly  interesting  and  truly  historical  event,"  said 
Mr.  Everard.  "  I  would  not  but  be  present,  both  for 
the  actual  personal  contribution  of  number,  character,  and 
testimony,  but  also  for  the  future  gratification— perhaps 
the  greatestr— of  feasting  on  the  retrospect;  that  is,  ru- 
minating  on  the  past  fact,  that  in  the  year  of  our  Lorfl. 
1847  I  had  been  one  of  a  -hosen  band— chosen  of  the 
Spirit,  which  bloweth  where  He  listetb— firom  millions  of 
honest-minded,  conscientious  countrymen-^chosen  by 
extraordinary  grace— chosen  by  free  grace— chosen  by 
incomprehensible,  unfathomable  love,  to  stand  on  the 
true  Pisgah,  and  view  the  promised  land !" 

« I  believe,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "that our  friend  Mr. 
R.,  son  of  a  distinguished  and  exemplary  Bishop  of  the 
Anglican  Establishment,  and  himself  till  lately  a  Mini* 
tor  of  the  Established  Church,  has  originated  this  hapny 


! 

; 


SOm  AND  TBB  ABBST. 


Mi 


tfiought,  of  the  English  cotiTerts  in  Rome  rcicciving  in  % 
body  the  benediction  of  the  Head  of  the  Church,  before 
returning  to  their  protesting  and  opposing  country." 

Tlie  week  following  this  first  mention  of  the  proposed 
presentation  to  his  Holiness,  it  was  further  made  known 
that  the  day  was  fixed  for  the  7th  of  April ;  and  our  Re- 
ligious Pilgrim,  in  order  that  her  expected  exemption 
from  this  public  presentation  might  be,  not  from  selA 
will,' but  from  obedience,  sent  to  his  Eminence  Cardimd 
Acton,  representing  the  event  in  question,  and,  iumng 
thus  done,  giving  no  further  thought  to  any  personi^ 
share  in  this  public  act,  was  writing,  in  compliance  with 
Mr.  Terrison's  wishes,  an  abstract  of  the  Religious  Insti- 
tute, when  a  gentle  but  rapid  tap  at  the  door  was  foU 
lowed  by  the  uninvited  entrance  of  Lilia,  who,  sinking  on 
her  knees,  could  oaly  just  articidate  the  words,  "  Ohi 
Fred  and  Harpy !" 

"  What  of  them,  dear  child  T 

"In  an  hour — ^in  an  hour,"  gasped  Litis. 

"  Do  you  really  mean,"  further  inquired  the  Religious, 
**  that  your  brothers  are  arrived  in  Rome,  and  intend  to 
visit  you  within  an  hour  1" 

"  I  do,  I  do—^es,  they  are  in  Rome !  Oh,  my  God  1 
I  desire  to  love  Thee  above  all  creatures ! — Look,  here 
is  thor  letter.  They  are  at  the  same  hotel  as  Miss  Gra- 
ham. Why  have  they  come  to  Rome?  Is  it  to  pagan 
or  to  Christian  Rome  they  have  come  1  Oh,  what  a  ^tato 
of  doubt!  but  I  shall  know  within  an  hour,  fbr  I  have 
had  the  letter  full  five  minutes,  and  the  messenger  must 
have  been  more  than  five  minutes  coming-in  thre« 
quarters  of  an  hour  perhaps.  Ah,  what  happiness !  My 
God !  give  them  grace  to  become  great  Saints  I" 


BOm  AMD  TBK  ABBXT. 

"  I  perceive,"  said  the  Religious,  as  she  gare  back  di* 
rapidly-written  letter,  "  that  Frederick  refers  to  a  formei 
letter  which  you  have  never  received,  and  which  doubt 
less  contained  information  interesting  and  important 
May  God  in  His  infinite  Mercy  give  them  light,  and  fidel 
Ity  to  that  light.  As  you  cannot  now  leave  the  hous« 
to  go  before  the  Adorable  Sacrament  in  the  church,  go 
to  our  oratory,  and  entreat  a  blessing  on  this  unexpected 
and  joyful  meeting." 

Lilia  instantly  obeyed;  but  in  a  very  few  minutes, 
rising  from  her  knees,  she  passed  rapidly  to  her  own 
room,  followed  by  Lucy ;  and  there,  from  among  the 
many  dresses  presented  to  her,  through  the  medium  of 
Donna  Candida  and  Mrs.  Mosh,  she  drew  forth  her  white 
English  muslin  frock  and  garland  of  blush-roses,  adding 
round  her  neck  a  gold  chain  and  blessed  crucifix,  given 
her  at  Loretto,  and  round  her  arm  a  rich  and  beautiful 
Spanish  rosary,  the  gifl  of  Lady  Elverton.  This  done, 
without  replying  to  the  various  questions  of  Lucy,  Lilia 
returned  to  the  oratory  and  remained  in  prayer.  The 
Religious,  whose  door  had  been  left  wide  open  by  the 
agitated  girl  when  she  first  went  to  the  oratory,  was  sur- 
prised  to  hear  her  so  soon  leave  her  prayer ;  but,  raising 
her  eyes  as  Lilia  passed,  immediately  discerned  that  she 
was  acting  on  some  inspiration  given :  and  this  opittion 
was  confirmed  by  observing  the  change  operated  in  her 
between  the  first  aimouncement  of  the  arrival  of  her  bro- 
thers in  Rome,  and  that  now  given  by  the  house  portress, 
that  they  were  actually  awaiting  her  in  the  outer  pwrlour 
of  the  suite  of  rooms. 


1 


1 


aOlia  AHD  TBI  AB»T. 


Ut 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Amid  good  thingi,  ah !  ever  ehooM  the  bMt, 
And  let  the  eonnoienco,  imiliiiK  in  the  brenst, 
ExoUlm,  "Mjr  all  to  Him  who  all  ho*  given," 
And  upting  from  earth  to  gain  an  endloi  MeaTaa. 

Fasdiriok  and  Henry  Sinclair  stood  in  the  receptioiv 
parlour  of  their  Religious  relative  too  much  absorbed  in 
the  immediately-expected  interview  with  their  sister  to 
speak  to  each  other.  On  the  brow  of  the  elder  brother 
hung  a  load  of  thought  and  care.  The  countenance  of 
the  younger  was  brighter ;  but  his  eyes  showed  that  he 
bad  been  relieved  by  tears ;  and  at  each  sound  his  colour 
varied,  as  he  watched  the  entrance-door.  But  few  min- 
utes passed  before  that  door  was  gently  opened,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  an  angel  of  hope  and  light  stood  be- 
fore them.  Was  it  1 — could  it  be  ?— Yes !  it  was  indeed 
their  own  Lilia ;  and,  rushing  towards  her,  each  seized  a 
hand,  and  each  would  have  kissed  a  cheek,  but  she, 
shrinking  from  the  tall  and  manly  Frederick,  although 
Hhe  pressed  his  hand,  leaned  instinctively  towards  the 
utill  youthful  Harry,  and  he  only  gave  her  the  fraternal 
salute.  "  Do  you  not  recognise  me,  Lily  ?"  said  Frede- 
rick,  now  drawing  her  towards  him  and  pressing  her  to 
his  heart.  Still  there  they  stood  all  three,  till  Frederick 
placing  her  a  cliair  they  took  their  seats  beside  her,  each 
holding  a  hand :  and  Lilia  recalled  the  day  when  she  had 
thus  sat  between  these  loved  brothers  nearly  brokeo- 


» 


'' '  'aw 


IBS 


BOm  AHD  TBI  ABKr. 


hearted  at  the  thought  of  parting,  and  she  said,  "  Oh, 
what  happiness !" — Then  out  poured  the  questions,  the 
replies,  the  exclamations,  the  recitals — all  in  the  loving 
confusion  of  fond  hearts,  assured  of  each  other's  aflfection  : 
and,  "  Oh,  how  beautiful  you  are  grown,  Lily  !" — and 
"How  tall  you  are,  Frederick!" — and  "Harry,  how 
glad  I  am,  you  look  just  the  same  as  you  did  when  you 
itarted  for  Norway ;  and  I  received  all  your  letters  but 
jhe  last:  and  what  was  in  that  last  letter?  Tell  me, 
dear  Fred,  why  have  I  this  great  happiness  t  Why  have 
you  come  to  Rome  ?  Now,  why  does  Fred  look  again 
BO  grave,  Harry  1  Have  you  come  to  Pagan  or  to 
Christian  Rome?" 

"To  Christian  Rome,"  replied  Frederick. 

"  Then,  oh !  dearest  brother,'  cried  Lilia,  "  look  not 
grave  or  tearAil ;  for  what  says  our  Lord  ?  '  He  that 
hath  left  house,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  &ther  or  mo- 
ther, or  wife  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my  name's  sake, 
shall  receive  an  hundredfold,  and  shall  possess  life  eveiw 
lasting." 

"True,"  sud  Frederick,  "we  ought  to  have  more 
courage ;  God  loves  a  cheerful  giver." 

"  Oh,  you  have  courage.  You  have  proved  that  you 
have  courage.    Have  you  not  already  left  all  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Harry.  "  And  you  know,  LUl,  that  Grod, 
who  accepted  the  'all'  of  the  Apostles,  which,  in  a 
worldly  view,  was  little  enough,  will  accept  our  *a]l;* 
whidi  for  Fred  was  something  really  to  resign,  as  the 
Bishop  had  declared  him  his  heir ;  and  when  he  heard  of 
Fred  having  realized  his  hopes  of  being  a  doubleKjlasa 
man,  and  making  choice  of  the  Church  for  a  profession. 


.ill 


"Oh, 


how 


more 


BOm  AND  TBI  ABBIT. 


2W 


Hhe  gave  him  the  best  living  in  the  diocese,  which  is  held 
for  him,  or  rather  was  held  for  him  by  Dr.  Mottleby, 
until  he  should  be  eligible ;  and  as  for  the  'all'  of  the 
heart,  that  was  worse  still  fur  poor  Fred,  being  the  eldest 
son  at  home,  losing  his  father's  confidence  and  his  mo- 
ther's love." 

Here  Lilia  felt  the  hand  that  held  her  right  hand 
tremble  and  turn  cold,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh !  Frede- 
rick, does  not  God  say,  '  Can  a  woman  forget  her  infant, 
that  she  should  not  have  compassion  on  the  son  of  her 
womb;  and  if  she  should  forget,  yet  will  /not  forget 
thee,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty."' 

"  Yes,"  said  Frederick,  "  I  have  been  given  strength 
to  offer  up  my  poor  •  all'  to  God.  But  Harry  speaks  as 
If  he  had  been  merely  a  witness,  and  not  a  sufferer.  This 
was  not  the  case.  Besides,  to  a  generous  heart  it  is  often 
worse  to  witness  than  to  suffer  pain." 

"  And  what  made  you  first  perceive,"  asked  Lilia, 
•*  that  there  is  but  one  Church,  separated  into  three  parts 
—the  Church  Militant,  the  Church  Purifying,  and  the 
Cburch  Triumphant." 

"  Do  you  remember,"  replied  Frederick,  •  that  when 
we  fancied  you  would  get  permission  to  go  with  us  to 
Norway,  there  was  a  small  packet  which  you  kept  out  of 
your  trunk,  and  ifrhich  was  not  to  be  put  into  the  bag  of 
books?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lilia,  "  it  was  a  precious  little  packet, 
■o  I  begged  it  might  go  into  a  comer  of  your  trunk.  I 
remembered  very  well  that  you  had  it ;  but  when  I  sent 
OD  the  pocket  o  iipass  to  Harry,  Mr.  Evenird,  whom  I 


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860 


ROME    AND   THE    ABBKT. 


consulted,  told  mo  not  to  remind  you  of  this  little  packef^ 
for  that  it  might  prove  useful  to  you." 

"  Well,  I  never  remembered  anything  of  it,"  continued 
Frederick,  "  till  one  rainy  but  calm  day  on  the  voyage, 
I  went  to  my  tnmk  for  some  of  my  own  books  to  amuse 
myself  in  the  cabin,  and  drew  forth  this  little  packet, 
tied  simply  by  a  string,  which  I  opened,  and  found  your 
'  Garden  of  the  Soul,'  a  book  of  Meditations,  a  Catechism, 
and  a  case  of  treasures,  which  under  other  circumstances 
you  would  have  been  sorry  to  have  resigned.  I  first 
read  the  '  Garden  of  the  Soul,'  and  wanted  no  other 
amusement  for  that  day.  Harry  got  at  the  case  of  trea> 
sures,  and  taking  out  a  medal  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  put  it 
on  a  string,  and,  for  your  sake,  wore  it  round  his  neck. 
He  was  virtually  a  Catholic  before  me,  and  full  of  sim- 
pie  faith.  I  put  off  every  personal  application  of  the 
truth  I  admitted  till  after  I  had  taken  my. degree.  Harry 
was  a  first-class  man  also  in  classics,  and  Mr.  Neston  was 
BO  full  of  joy  and  triumph  that  he  foi^ot  the  many  ad* 
missions  ho  had  made  in  our  N«:?way  trip :  amongst 
others,  that  if  he  were  to  depart  from  what  he  called 
'  pure  deism,'  it  could  be  only  to  follow  up  the  sole 
Christian  system  whose  principles  could  bear  to  be 
pushed  to  their  extent.  He  has  made  his  abjuration, 
however,  standing  with  us,  his  two  pupils,  before  the  altar 
of  our  Lady  of  Victory,  in  Paris,  where  the  celebrated 
Abbe  Desgenettes  received  us  into  the  Church,  and  placed 
our  parents  and  family  on  the  tablets  of  intercession  of 
the  Arohiconfratemity.  Mr.  Neston  remained  in  Paris, 
aa  he  found  immediate  employment  and  support  in  a  no- 
ble French  &mily,  who  had  applied  to  the  Abb^  Disg^ 


i 


^«nBH 


TtOMK  ASD  THB  ABBKT 


361 


Mttes  for  'an  English  Catholic  tutor,  and  Harry  and  I 
ioumeyed  on  here  to  get  the  Pope's  blessing,  and  to  con- 
sult our  Catholic  cousin  Lady  de  Grey  about  our  futura 
life.  Harry  would  like  to  be  a  soldier,  and  to  go  to  k 
dia  with  Lord  Elverton ;  but  I,  who  have  always  thought 
of  being  a  clergyman,  am  incapable  of  forming  a  single 
plan,  and  it  is  this  whidi  prmcipally  continues  to  fill  me 
with  anxious  thought." 

"But  why  with  anxious  thought?"  inquired  Lilia.  "  H 
you  have  always  hoped  to  be  God's  minister,  the  very 
time  has  come  in  which  you  may  become  so  in  deed  and 
in  truth." 

"  Ah !  Lily,"  replied  Frederick,  "  if  you  mean  that  I 
can  now  become  a  Catholic  priest,  just  reflect  on  the  di£ 
ference  between  such  a  life  and  that  which  I  have  wit- 
nessed from  the  age  of  reason,  and  have  always 
contemplated  as  one  day  to  be  my  own." 

"  But,  dearest  Frederick,"  cried  Lilia,  "  why  should  it 
be  more  difficult  for  you  to  be  a  priest  than  for  me  to 
become  a  nun  1" 

"  You  become  a  nun !"  cried  both  the  brothers.  "  TbUf 
Lily,  who  love  so  fondly — you,  who  are  so  beautiful,  and 
■o  much  admired,  and  sought  for  in  marriage.  Oh  1  it 
can  never  be  1" 

"  You  tell  me,"  said  Lilia, "  that  I  can  fondly  love — ^you 
tell  me  that  I  am  beautiful,  and  inspire  love :  all  this  I 
know.  And  now  listen,"  added  she,  rising  and  lifUng  her 
hands  and  eyes  to  Heaven,  "  Would  that  my  heart  could 
love  more  truly — would  that  it  were  a  flame  of  lovei 
Would  that  my  beauty  were  &r  greater,  and  its  influence 
fikGte  powerftil  on  all  1    Ilien  would  I  draw  more  soula 


I 


f-Tp- 


! 


i 


I 


2Q3i 


ROHC  Am)  'iBB   ABDET. 


to' Him  who  diose  me,  from  eternity,  to  be  purified  and  < 
adorned  by  all  His  sacramental  gifts  and  graces,  and  then 
to  become  His  spouse !  What  mortal  can  compare  with 
Him — ^the  most  beautiful  amongst  the  sous  of  men,  and 
yet  the  mighty  God  of  Heaven  and  earth — King  of 
kings,  and  Lord  of  lords !  who  linows  all  my  thoughts, 
and  knows  that  1  love  Him !  Who  is  all  truth,  justice, 
mercy,  and  love — all  power,  all  wisdom  !  and  who  has 
promised  to  me,  after  this  short  life,  a  happiness  beyond 
all  that  my  eyes  have  seen,  or  my  ears  lieard,  or  even 
my  heart  conceived,  and  this  for  ever  and  ever  1  Oh, 
Frederick,  think  of  the  meaning  of  '  Eternity,'  and  you 
wUl,  like  mof  choose  God.  alone  to  be  your  only  joy  on 
earth." 

Frederick,  filled  wth  unexpected  and  increasing  emo- 
tion,  fixed  his  gaze  on  his  sister^  and  when  she  turned  on 
him  her  full  countenance,  which,  radiant  with  her  heavenly 
emotion,  seemed  angelic,  he  felt  subdued  and  won.  She 
took  both  his  hunds,  and  saidj  "  Will  you  be  the  priest  ' 
of  Godl" 

"  I  will — may  God  od  help  me !"  returned  he. 

"  Never  will  you  repent  this  choice^  even  on  earth,** 
•wd  Lilia. 

"  I  believe  not,"  said  Frederick.    "  May  God  complete 
his  ovm  work." 

"  Amen,"  said  Harry. 

Another  half-hour  paf>«ed,  aft^  vhich  the  brothem 
were  greeted  from  behind  the  tri^Uis  by  the  ralation  whom  ' 
they  had  come  to  consult,  and  who  promised  to  do  all  in  . 
her  power  to  forward  the  wishes  of  each.    And  that 
evening  there  waa  a  happy  family  party  in  Lord  Blver* : 


ROIU   AND   ms  ABBST. 


2e» 


txNi's  rooms,  which  shed  a  renewed  sunshine  in  the  breasts 
of  the  two  new  converts,  and  gave  them  hope  of  brighter 
days  to  come.  There  were  two  persons  in  that  family 
^{roup  who  iuu*  an  equal  privilege  with  the  relations,  and 
who  welcomed  Frederick  and  Henry  Sinclair  with  double 
interest  and  sympathy — these  were  Mr.  Everard  and 
Miss  Graham ;  and  towards  the  close  of  the  evening,  the 
four  united  converts  had  by  degrees  fallen  into  discourse 
so  profound  and  absorbing,  that  they  were  long  unoon* 
scious  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  that  Lord  and 
Lady  Elverton  alone  remained  in  the  room,  watching 
diem  flrom  a  distance  with  pleased  attention. 

On  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  April,  our  Religious 
Pilgrim  was  informed  that  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Acton 
approved  of  the  application  made  to  him  from  other 
quarters,  that  she  should,  as  Lady  de  Grey — a  convert 
whom  many  circumstances  had  made  a  public  character 
—be  presented  with  her  fellow  converts  on  that  memora- 
ble day  to  His  Holiness,  in  the  Quirinal  Palace.  As  to 
her  own  private  request,  to  be  excused  so  public  a  pre- 
sentation, she  heard  nothing  in  reply ;  and  was  assured 
by  the  Ecclesiastic  who  conveyed  to  her  the  wishes  of 
his  Eminence,  that  it  would  be  in  vain  to  seek  further 
explanation — the  audience  chambers  were  closed,  and  hiS' 
Eminence  had  retired,  extremely  indisposed,  within  his 
private  rooms.  The  hour  appointed  for  all  the  English, 
converts  in  Rome  to  assemble  in  the  ante-room  of  the 
Papal  audience  chamber  was  four  in  the  afternoon,  and 
the  intermediate  hours  were  busily  employed  in  arrange, 
ments  according  to  each  person's  feelings  and  position. 
Lilia  obtained  pormissioD  to  put  on  the  Postulant's  habi^ 


if* 


tM 


ROMS   AVD  THE   ABBIT. 


already  blessed  by  Mr.  Terrison,  and  from  thst  day  to 
return  no  more  to  the  dress  and  ornaments  of  the  world. 
Katherine  Graham  wits  making  her  final  purchases  ol 
crucifixes,  rosaries,  and  medals,  to  be  blessed  by  the 
Pope,  and  skirmishing  without  spleen,  but  most  energeti* 
cally,  because  the  word  "  English"  and  not  "  British"  was 
used  by  every  one  in  Rome,  as  if  Scotland  had  ceased  to 
be  a  nation.  Mr.  Everard  was  laying  down  his  positive 
commands  to  Mrs.  Moss  to  remain  humbly  hidden,  with 
her  friend  and  fellow  convert,  behind  the  group  of  ladies, 
on  their  own  side  of  the  Papal  ante-room,  and  not  to 
give  any  outward  token  that  she  remembered  his  exist* 
ence.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  as  there  is  no  train  of  thought, 
or  studious  investigation,  which  you  will  not  interrupt  to 
talk  of  warmth  or  cold,  or  food  or  repose ;  so  is  there 
every  risk,  but  for  a  timely  prohibition,  that  you  would 
rush  out  upon  me,  with  some  physical  dilemma,  at  the 
very  instant  when,  having  kissed  the  Pope's  foot,  I  had 
arrested  his  notice  and  was  enjoying  the  privilege  of  a 
few  words  from  Christ's  Vicar  on  earth !"  Our  Pilgrim 
was  making  her  immediate  preparation  for  an  interview, 
which  had  had  the  distant  preparation  of  many  months, 
but  which  now  required  some  additional  thought,  as  she 
had  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  kind  offer  of  Cardinal 
Acton  to  write  to  Monsignor  Medici,  the  chamberlain, 
had  been  frustrated  by  the  illness  of  his  Eminence,  and 
that  many  things  therefore  would  fell  upon  herself  to  state. 
At  four  o'clock,  carriage  after  carriage  was  rolling 
•long  the  various  streets  leading  to  Piazza  di  Monte 
Cbvallo,  and,  by  the  half-hour  after,  the  destined  i"oom  in 
the  Quirinal  Palace  was  filled  with  those  privileged  to 


mmm 


ROME   AND   THE   ABBKT. 


M5 


unite  undsr  that  august  roof.  As  deep  emotion  filled 
the  breasts  of  some,  anxious  expectation  that  of  others, 
and  not  a  few  were  absorbed  in  classifying  the  crucifixes, 
rosaries,  and  medals,  which  they  had  brought  to  get  the 
Papal  blessing,  the  select  crowd  was  a  silent  one,  each 
group  wliispering,  and  but  partially  mingling  with  other 
and  perhaps  well-known  parties  near  them.  One  of  the 
whispers  was  from  Lilia  to  her  brother  Frederick,  "  Oh, 
look,  dear  Fred,  how  many  priests !  Young,  and  with 
much  apparently  to  offer  to  God,  of  beauty  and  of  love !" 
At  length  the  folding-doors  were  thrown  open,  and  attend 
ed  by  a  few  of  the  Guardia  Nobile,  his  Holiness  Pius 
the  Ninth  stood  in  the  midst,  as  a  father  among  his 
children.  The  Pope  first  addressed  the  gentlemen  who 
were  ranged  on  that  side  of  the  room,  and  received  their 
homage ;  then,  before  the  ladies  could  advance,  the  Eng 
lish  Ecclesiastic  appointed  to  conduct  the  presentations 
to  his  Holiness,  having  a  few  instants  before  intimated 
his  wishes,  drew  our  friends  immediately  forward,  and 
the  Pilgrim  Geraldine  was  at  the  feet  of  Pius  the  Ninth. 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  his  Holiness  "  a  Nun — a  Benedio- 
tiner 

**  After  kissing  in  deep  submission  the  foot  of  him  who 
represents  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  "he  replied,  «'  Holy 
Father,  I  humbly  hope  to  become  such." 

"  You  hope  to  become  such  ?"  repeated  the  Pope.  "  Of 
what  Order  are  you  then,  my  daughter  ?" 

The  history  then  commenced,  but  scarcely  from  her- 
self; the  English  dignitary  who  presented  our  Pilgrim 
recountuig  everything  with  an  accuracy  and  zeal  which 
left  hor  nothing  to  add ;  and  she  remained  on  her  knees, 
IS 


Md 


ROHX   AMD  TRK   ABBET. 


with  her  arms  fulded  on  her  breast,  watching  the  ooftnit* 
nance  of  the  Pope,  who,  finding  that  the  English  Nun 
before  him  was  the  same  to  whom  he  had  alread}'  granted 
tnu  }les»cript  of  Encouragement,  and  who  was  openly 
protected  by  the  Cardinals  Fransone  and  Acton,  stooped 
dowii  to  speak  to  her  in  a  low  t<HJe,  granted  her  imme- 
diate and  confidential  request,  and  promised  her  a  private 
audience  whenever  she  might  wish  or  require  it.  So  long 
did  his  Holiness  condescend  to  continue  ^waking  in  this 
low  tone,  bending  over  her,  that  both  private  and  publio 
audience  were  included  in  this  memorable  day,  and  it 
was  several  months  before  she  again  sought  an  uitenriew 
with  this  true  Father,  Priest,  and  King. 

As  our  grateful  Pilgrim  arose  from  her  knees,  Lilia 
fell  prostrate  to  kiss  the  sacred  feet ;  and  the  tie  o. 
kindred  was  mentioned  to  his  Holiness,  and  drew  from 
him  a  benevolent  and  approving  smile.  Katherine  then, 
with  her  numerou-i  treasures  to  be  blest,  did  homage  to 
the  visible  head  of  the  Church,  and  after  a  few  minutes 
joined  her  two  dear  friends  in  the  distant  comer  to  which 
they  had  retired,  and  where  they  remained  all  three  in 
silent  peace  till  a  new  interest  arose.  Pius  now  addressed 
the  assembled  English  converts — bade  them  return  heart- 
felt thanks  to  God  for  the  grace  of  faith— assured  them 
of  the  paternal  feelings  with  which  he  addressed,  and 
whould  remember  them ;  and  exhorted  them  to  return  and 
labour  in  their  own  country,  that  they  might  bring  many 
others  to  share  in  the  blessing  they  now  enjoyed,  and  so 
promote  the  glory  of  their  God. 
♦*  Well,  Everard,"  inquired  Lord  Elvertrn  in  the  tuv^ 


J 


ROm  AND   TBI  jlBBXT. 


2«T 


he  oom\t9> 
igl»h  Nun 
1^  granted 
AS  openly 
n,  stooped 
her  imme- 
r  a  private 
.  So  long 
ing  in  this 
and  publio 
ay,  and  it 
I  intenriew 

nees,  Lilia 
the  tie  o. 
Jrew  from 
lerine  then, 
homage  to 
iw  minutes 
er  to  which 
ill  three  in 
r  addressed 
itum  heart- 
sured  them 
ressed,  and 
>  return  and 
>ring  many 
)red,  and  so 


teg    "has  the  event  of  to<lay  realized  your  anticipa. 

"  You  should  never  hold  the  page  of  a  book  too  near 
your  eyes,"  replied  Mr.  Everard ;  "  everything  become, 
confused  and  perplexed.  So  it  is  with  events.  I  wilj 
tell  you  what  I  think  of  to^iay  two  months  hence,  if  We 
are  both  alive." 

*•  Well,  but  did  you  get  your  own  talk  with  the  Pope  ?" 
"Yes,  I  did.  I  shall  make  a  memorandum  of  it  to- 
night  but  I  cannot  now  dwell  on  it.  i  am  proud  of  it,  or 
rather  I  should  be  proud  of  it  were  I  not  quite  unhinged, 
rhe  fact  is,  I  have  been  too  much  excited,  and  now  Imust 
pay  the  penalty.  I  have  a  low  nervous  fever  on  me.  IT] 
go  to  bed  for  a  week.    Good  night,  General." 

"Good  night,"  returned  Lord  Elverton,  laughing 
"This  day  week  will  be  the  14th,  when  we  are  both  eni 
gaged  to  the  French  Ambassador.  But  what  excited 
you  80  much  ?" 

"I  saw  her,  after  all  her  toils  and  anxieties,  at  the  feet 
of  him  who  could  both  appreciate  and  assist  her.  I  saw 
the  Vicar  of  arist  bend  over,  and  tdk  low  with  th« 
daughter  of  Anna  Maria.  I  thought  I  heaixl  a  voice  say. 
ing,  '  Come  unto  me  all  ye  who  labour  and  toe  hmry  lm> 
dco,  and  I  will  give  you  iMt.' " 


in  the  ertn- 


ROUK   AHS   Tm   ABBir. 


y 


[. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Two  lovelj^  boya  I  fniUiif  Me 
Ara  •tnifcslInK  for  their  Mother*!  knee. 
And  whieh  her  fondeit  choice  end  pert  t 
Bmk  monnt  end  neitle  to  her  heert  1 


Th«  official  announcemr  t  had  now  arrived  of  the  ftp- 
pointment  of  Lord  Elverton  to  be  Governor  General  of 
India,  and  the  same  private  hand  that  had  informed  him 
of  the  intentions  of  Government  now  intimated  that  ex 
pcdition  was  desirable,  and  that  it  was  hoped  his  Lord- 
ship would  be  in  Calcutta  before  October.     A  farewell 
dinner  was  the  immediate  result  of  the  Government  dis- 
patch, not  to  take  leave  of  Romans,  but  for  the  Anglo- 
Indians  to  take  leave  of  Rome,  and  of  those  of  their  coun- 
trymen who  were  in  Rome  and  on  the  porter's  list  at  the 
Locanda.    All  was  as  much  as  possible  in  English  style 
—all  were  in  good  spirits,  and  the  toasts  and  speeches 
were  animated  and  cordial.    Towards  the  dose,  however, 
It  was  proposed  to  give  the  toast  of  "  The  seventy  Eng- 
lish converts  in  Rome!"  which  toast  alone  reeeived  « 
damper,  not  from  the  one  or  two  Protestantit  present, 
who,  with  a  smiling  shrug  of  the  shoulders  had  filled 
tlieir  glasses,  but  from  a  worthy  old  Catholic,  who,  as 
indignantly  as  any  elder  brodier  of  any  prodigal  son 
could  have  desired,  hoped  that  his  Lordship  would  per- 
mit the  amendment  of  "The  body  of  Englibh  Catholics 
b  Rome ;"  "  for,''  said  he,  "  there  has  bew  by  fiur  too 


ROm   AND  TBI   ABBXr. 


269 


nuofa  ftiss  made  about  these  oonverts— enough  to  turn 
their  heads.  They  have  been  all  just  presented  to  the 
Pope,  as  a  great  historical  event ;  but  I  trust  his  Holi- 
ness  will  soon  give  them  some  humUiation !" 

"  Why  so  t"  said  another  Catholic  of  ancient  name. 
"Is  it  not  the  part  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ  to  extend  his 
arms  to  the  sons  who  say  '  Father,  I  have  sinned  before 
Heaven  and  before  thee,  &c.  V  Therefore  I  say  that  it 
is  a  great  historical  event,  and  so  far  from  being  an  act 
of  presumption  it  is  an  act  of  humiliation ;  for  many 
have  joined  their  fellow-converts  on  this  occasion,  who 
have  been  received  into  the  Church  these  fifteen  or  twenty 
years,  and  the  step  talien  so  quietly,  that  the  exclamation 
was,  '  Why,  I  thought  you  had  been  a  Catholic  all  your 
life!'" 

"And  that  is  the  very  way,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
"  that  all  people  ought  to  conduct  themselves  who  enter 
the  Church.  The  step  should  be  taken  silently  and 
humbly ;  and  the  convert  should  live  bidden,  and  not  set 
up  for  a. hero  or  a  heroine." 

"  Why,  that  depends,"  said  the  other  noble  Catholic, 
"on  the  good  pleasure  of  Divine  Providence.  Neither 
Saint  Paul  nor  Saint  Augustine  were  permitted  to  live 
hidden." 

" But  at  any  rate,"  said  the  objector,  "let  the  women 
converts  keep  quiet,  and  not  pretend  to  be  something, 
when  they  are  nothing." 

"That,  again,"  said  the  defender,  "must  be  entirely 
•ocordlng  to  the  designs  of  Almighty  God." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,"  cried  the  irritated  '  elder  brother,* 
"ofawoium  convert  presuming  to  found  or  revive  • 


— * 


iTO 


BOm  AND  THI  ABBBT. 


1.  I' 


Religious  Institute,  aa  if  thepresi^nt  oonventa  in  England 
wero  not  good  and  wise  enougl !  I  cannot  stand  such 
impertinence !" 

Tliis  was  rather  pointed.  Lord  Elverton  raised  hit 
eyebrows,  and  had  just  resolved  that  if  no  one  took  up 
the  gauntlet  tor  his  daughter,  he  must  enter  the  lists  him* 
self,  when  the  same  Catholic  nobleman  who  had  defended 
the  general  body  of  English  converts,  again  came  for- 
ward in  this  more  delicate  cause.  "  I  have  been  per 
Aiittcd,"  said  he,  "to  peruse  the  slcetch  of  the  Institutt 
which  the  Religious  Lady  in  question  proposes  to  found, 
and  find  it  based  on  the  most  ancient  Order  proper  to  ■ 
Europe.  She  has  come  to  Rome  19  order  to  submit 
every  part  to  the  approval  of  the  Church.  Nothing 
more,  I  presume,  need  be  said  but  this — that  if  that  sanc- 
tion be  obtained,  we  are  bound  as  Catholics  to  bb')«  ,-e 
that  Almighty  God  has  willed  and  has  inspired  the  pro- 
posed Institute  ;  and,  therefore,  I  vote  that  the  amend< 
roent  to  the  original  toast  be  '  The  seventy  English  con- 
verts now  in  Rome,  and  Lady  De  Grey  in  particular !" 

All  glasses  were  filled.  Lord  Elverton  bowed,  and 
when  the  little  stir  of  complimentary  enthusiasm  was 
over,  he  "proposed  "  The  good  old  Catholics  of  England." 
This  was  most  cordially  received ;  but  Lord  Elverton 
had  been  wounded,  and  before  raising  his  glass  he  said, 
"  The  old  English  Catholics  are  a  most  estimable  body : 
no  one  can  respect  them  more  than  myself.  There  are, 
however,  many  Saints  whom  one  would  rather  honour 
than  live  with,  and,  with  some  truly  noble  exceptions  in' 
tiie  present  company  and  elsewhere,  there  is  a  crabbed' 
Qeta  about  them  that  contrasts  striliingly  with  the  chee^ 


^■iiiimiiwi 


Mpwwp 


mjaP"^'"   "'"' 


MOm   ANw  TBI   ABBKT. 


«n 


ftd  and  confiding  urbanity  which  Catholicity  produoea  in 
her  free  countries.  In  England,  the  old  Catholic  is,  or 
fiuioies  himself,  harassed  on  all  sides.  There  are  'the 
Irish  Catholios,  never  doing  right, — the  English  oonverts, 
always  doing  wrong — the  Protestants— the  very  devil ! 
Is  he  happy  in  his  own  condensed  colony  1  Why,  let  ua 
hope  BO ;  and  now  drink  to  his  good  health  and  better 
temper !" 

All  laughed,  and  quatC  1  >\e  wine,  the  '  elder  brother* 
included,  who,  having  coole<  ,  logan  to  feel  that  he  had 
already  said  too  much,  hut  a  young  prot^ga  at  the 
other  end  of  the  tabic  mow  sinrtod  up.  ovd  exclaimed, 
"  My  T.ord,  when  oi.-  u  resisting  tlif>  uevil  all  one's  life, 
instead  of  yielding  to  him,  it  ib  enough  to  make  peoole 
orabb  'd;  and  it  is  hard  t>o  be  scoffed  at  by  the  more 
prosperous  I  must  i  ay  thiii,  though  with  all  respect,  be- 
cause I  am  an  old  Catholio." 

"  How  old  are  you,  my  boy  ?"  said  Lord  Elverton. 
The  young  man  made  no  reply,  and  his  Lordship  «tddecl, 
**  If  I  remember  right,  you  are  stated  in  the  official  list 
to  be  twenty-two  this  May ;  therefore,  my  boy,  do  not 
use  the  term  '  old  Catholic'  before  me." 

"I  meant  no  oflfence,  my  Lord,"  blundered -out  the 
young  official.  "  Indeed  I  never  knew  that  your  Lord- 
ship was  an  old  convert.  I  understood  that  all  your  life 
you  had  been  a  concealed  Catholic."  No  sooner  were 
the  words  uttcrud,  than  the  young  man  perceived  hia 
filse  Ktep.  The  blood  rushed  to  his  face— he  darted  to 
Lord  Elvorton,  bent  one  knee ;  then  rising,  exclaimed, 
*•  I  see  it's  all  over  with  me !  I've  blown  myself  up ! 
Tm  off  ft  r  Civita  Veochia  r 


1^1 


: 


u, 


2VS 


ROME    A2)9   THE    ABDET. 


**  Where  you  think,"  said  Lord  Elvertor ,  lr»ughing, 
"  to  pick  up  the  largest  portion  of  your  relics  ?  Sit 
down,  Frank  Blunderell,  in  your  o/c/ place,  soul  and  body 
together,  and  talk  to  your  next  neighbour,  whoever  he 
may  be,  on  subjects  you  both  understand  !" 

Young  Blunderell  bowed,  and  returned  to  the  lower 
end  of  the  long  table ;  but  an  awkward  silence  ensued, 
as  if  the  company  secretly  felt  that  the  youthful  Quixote 
had  been  guilty  of  a  sharp  truth.  Lord  Elverton  there- 
fore, determined,  as  far  as  he  could  bring  himself  to  the 
condescension  of  an  explanation,  to  do  so,  as  if  in  the 
outpouring  of  a  convivial  spirit  Yet  a  personal  expla- 
nation, when  partaking  the  character  of  vindication,  is  so 
delicate  a  proceeding  that  it  is  better  glanced  at  than 
openly  undertaken  ;  and  Lord  Elverton  possessed  "  good 
taste"  to  the  last  degree  of  elaborate  finish.  Therefore, 
in  resuming  his  part  of  chief  speaker,  he  only  implied  his 
heroic  Catholicity  in  the  fact  of  his  second  marriage  to  a 
lady  of  inherited  faith  from  the  first  grandees  of  Spain ; 
and  reverting  to  his  daughter's  mission  in  Rome — 

"  I  understand,"  said  he,  "  that  Lady  de  Grey  has  had 
•  highly-respectable  body  opposed  to  her  :  so  much  the 
better.  Whether  in  love  or  war,  we  rre  complimented 
by  having  had  antagonists  worthy  our  efforts.  However, 
in  the  present  instance,  it  would  appear  that  the  Divine 
King  for  whom  my  daughter  has  combated,  has  not  se- 
lected  that  class  termed  '  highly-respectable'  to  be  ho- 
noured by  attending  His  Sacramental  Presence  to  the 
great  Babylon  of  England ;  but  that  in  these  times  of  po> 
pulsr  audacity,  when  the  people  are  not  afraid  to  speak 
evil  of  dignities,  and  God  has  made  use  of  mobs  to  chas. 


ROMS  AND  TBK   ABBET. 


2la 


,  lr»ughing, 
relics  1  Sit 
d  and  body 
whoever  he 

0  the  lower 
lice  ensued, 
ful  Quixote 
erton  there- 
nself  to  the 
as  if  in  the 
sonal  expla- 
cation,  is  so 
ced  at  than 
issed  "  good 
Therefore, 
implied  his 
arringe  to  a 
!S  of  Spain ; 
)me — 
rey  has  had 
)0  much  the 
mplimented 
However, 
the  Divine 
,  has  not  se- 
e'  to  be  ho- 
lence  to  the 
times  of  po< 
lid  to  speak 
obs  to  chas. 


tise  tlie  representatives  bf  His  kingly  power,  He  hoa  ne> 
vertheless  given  this  consolation  to  dethroned  monarchs 
and  exiled  princes,  to  be  united  in  the  great  and  holy 
work  of  repairing  the  outrages  long  committed  against 
His  mysteries  in  London.  I  have  never  presumed,  being 
a  layman,  to  inquire  the  gradual  steps  by  which  my 
daughter's  spiritual  advisers  have  conducted  her  to  the 
secure  rock  on  which  she  now  stands.  I  was  told  by 
some  'highly-respectable  person,'  last  year,  that  she  was 
leading  a  '  forlorn  hope ;'  to  which  I  replied  that,  it  the 
bv' sieged  were  her  friends,  the  '  hope'  was  not  '  forlorn,' 
but  certain,  and  that  I  felt  no  anxiety  whatever ;  for  she 
had  then  followed  the  only  a  jvice  1  had  ever  given  her, 
which  was  to  come  to  '  head-quarters !' — a  soldiet's  ad- 
vice, which,  it  would  seem,  accorded  with  her  own  inspi- 
rations, and  she  came  to  Rome.  And  now,  my  friends, 
as  we  must  soon  part,  let  me  propose  as  a  farewell  toast, 
'  Brotherly  union !'  on  which  subject  permit  a  few  last 
words.  It  is  to  humbly  advise  that  these  distinctive 
tevnis  be  done  away  with  of  '  Old  Catholic,^  and  '  Con- 
vert,' except  on  such  rare  events  as  this  late  presenta- 
tion to  his  Holiness,  or  during  the  first  year  or  two  of 
initiation  into  the  practical  working  of  the  great  truth 
embraced.  These  first  years  we  may  suppose  are  those 
in  which  the  Father  clothes  the  younger  sou  in  the  first 
robe,  and  puts  the  ring  on  his  hand  and  the  shoes  on  his 
feet,  celebrating  his  return  with  feasting,  music,  and 
dancing ;  but  these  first  symbolical  ceremonies  over,  as 
the  }  O'lnger  son  entered  into  all  the  intimate  and  labo- 
lious  duties  of '  his  father's  house,'  so  r^ny  we  reasonably 
conclude  the  Catholic  of  later  date  to  be  '  at  home'  in 
•11  the  practices  as  well  as  theory  of  his  faith.  It  would 
■  12* 


!  f 


.t-j-a^jB 


/ 


^r 


in 


194 


ROMK   AND   THS   ABDST. 


ever  have  been  a  thing  impossible  to  me,"  contlnuad 
Lord  Elverton,  "to  exact  from  uny  man  the  decla- 
lation  of  the  precise  moment  in  which  he  thought  as  I 
did.  That  his  opinions  are  the  same  may  be  most 
gratifying ;  but  as  to  their  date ! — Why,  truly,  the  Me- 
thodist and  New  Light  would  be  wise  compared  to  this 
extravagance.  A  date!  why,  is  it  on  account  of  its 
being  the  18th  of  June,  1814,  that  we  value  or  do 
not  value  the  great  event  of  Waterloo?  A  date! 
Fray,  can  any  one  inform  me  accurately  the  precise  day 
and  month  in  which  Enoch  and  £lias  were  severally 
caught  up  in  the  body  to  Heaven  1  And  is  Enoch,  think 
you,  as  tlie  first  arrived  by  some  thousands  of  years,  be- 
grudging to  the  great  prophet  his  entrance  to  that  mys- 
terious abode,  where  together  these  '  two  witnesses*  await 
their  return  to  earth  1  Lastly,  can  Catholic  England 
suffer  a  greater  impediment  to  her  day  of  restoration, 
and  give  a  greater  triumph  to  the  devil  than  by  foster- 
ing this  spirit  of  pique  between  those  whom  Almighty 
God  has  made  His  by  ordinary  grace,  and  those  He  has 
made  His  by  extraordinary  grace  ?  These  few  remarks 
thrown  out,  I  have  now  only  to  wish  to  the  many  valued 
friends  I  leave  in  Europe,  '  Brotherly  union  !' " 

With  this  last  toast  the  ftrewell  dinner-party  broke 
up ;  and  on  the  following  evenmg  her  Father's  speech, 
with  what  had  preceded  it,  were  reported  to  the  Religious 
Solitary  by  the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison,  who  had  been 
present,  and  possessed  a  most  accurate  memory.  "  And 
now.  Madam,"  said  he,  "  I  must  tell  you,  in  all  the  sin- 
cerity of  my  friendship,  that  I  wish  you  would  condescend 
to  be  a  little  more  explanatory  towards  those  who  really 
•re  your  friend»— myaelf,  for  instanoe ;  because,  when  1 


BOMS   AND   THS   AB8ET. 


m 


hear  you  attacked,  which  is  constantly  the  case,  instead 
of  implying  that  you  are  invulnerable,  with  all  that  arts 
tocratio  dignity  which  may  become  the  nobleman  and  the 
soldier,  I  would,  as  the  humble  priest,  defend  you  and 
your  cause  point  by  point ;  and  this  I  can  do  very  well 
for  you,  because,  not  only  is  my  sacred  calling  of  courtie 
respected,  but  God  has  so  willed  that  I  am  a  favourite ; 
and  if  I  say  a  blunt  word  sometimes,  I  have  a  good- 
humoured  face,  as  I  have,  I  trust,  a  kind  heart :  and  the 
English  in  Rome — Now,  why  do  you  smile  at  the  words 
•  English  in  Rome  V  You  look  exactly  as  if  you  would 
Bay, '  God  help  these  good  English  in  Rome !' " 

The  smile  brightened  and  expanded  with  the  arch  look 
of  earlier  days ;  but  the  matured  Geraldine  only  replied, 
**My  kind  Reverend  friend,  you  require  from  me  an 
account  of  motives  and  reasons,  and  I  owe  you  too  much 
respect  and  gratitude  to  refuse  you  this ;  but  you  must 
not  inquire  into  looks  and  smiles." 

"  Well,  but  you  will  give  me  your  confidence,  I  hope, 
In  everything  else,"  said  he, "  and  I  shall  examine  closely 
all  your  arguments." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Geraldine;  "you  shall  play  the 
part  of '  objector '  to  the  utmost  extent,  provided  that  at 
the  end  of  our  conversation  you  will  drop  your  assumed 
character,  and  give  your  assent  to  all  that  you  really  do 
approve :  and  I  will  give  forth  all  I  really  thmk  and  feel, 
leaving  to  your  sacerdotal  discretion  how  much  to  keep 
fai  confidence  and  how  much  to  publish.  And  now,  then, 
for  the  first  point  to  be  examined  1" 

"  The  first  point,"  said  Mr.  Terriaon,  "  is  why  you 
have  not  been  satisfied  with  the  convents  in  England, 
but  must  be  neeking  novel  :y  and  innovation  in  thia  auda< 


im 


87fl 


ROME    AKD   THE    ABBET. 


cious  attetn]it  to  found  a  new  Order,  or  perhaps  yon  nill 
prefer  my  saying  a  new  Branch  of  the  old  Order  of  Saint 
Benedict  1" 

"  Becauf  e,"  replied  she,  "  the  present  Benedictine  Con- 
vents in  England  have  been  continued,  or  newly  estab- 
lished, in  times  of  difficulty  and  restriction,  and  are  not 
what  Abbeys  and  Priories  were  in  '  Ages  of  Faith.* 
The  Superiors  and  Communities  are  accustomed  to  this 
contraction  of  all  their  full  privileges,  and  being  pro- 
fessed  in  this  state  of  things,  are  not  required  to  seek 


more. 


"  And  this  '  more'  that  you  are  seeking  for,"  said  Mr. 
Terrison,  "  this  attempt  to  unite  the  Contemplative  and 
Active  life  under  one  Superior,  this  is  not  proper  to  the 
Benedictine  Order,  which  is  wholly  Contemplative. 
Perhaps  this  will  be  looked  upon  by  other  Benedictine 
Superiors  as  most  rash  and  visionary." 

"  Do  you  suppose,  Reverend  Sir,"  replied  Geraldine, 
"  that  in  our  ancient  female  abbeys  nothing  was  done  for 
the  poor  around  them  ?  Were  they  never  taught  the 
Christian  faith — ^never  fed — ^iiever  clothed  1  You  cannot 
believe  such  a  contradiction  to  history  and  monastic 
annals." 

"  No,  certainly,"  said  he ;  "  the  loss  sustained  by  the 
poor,  when  monasteries  were  destroyed,  has  since  been 
•rainly  sought  to  be  supplied  by  the  Poor-Laws." 

"  And  you  will  also  admit,  I  conclude,"  continued 
Geraldine,  "  that  some  system  was  adopted  in  the  great 
female  abbeys  for  the  corporal  and  spiritual  relief  of  the 
poor?  That,  when  engaged  in  chaunting  lauds  or  ves- 
pers  in  choir,  the  Abbess  Hilda,  or  Ebba,  did  not  rush 
out  orosier  in  hand  evety  time  a  timid  knock  was  heard 


ROUS   AVD  THE  ABBEY. 


277 


«t  the  postern  door  ?  The  charge  of  ministerirg  to  the 
necessities  of  the  poor  must  have  been  entrusted  to 
some  efficient  members  of  the  community  ;  and  remem- 
ber what  we  have  just  said,  that  to  minister  to  the 
poor  in  those  '  Ages  of  Faith'  was  laborious.  The  food 
they  received  was  plentiful,  was  ready  cooked,  and  in 
winter  given  warm.  The  clothes  they  received  were 
■•eady  made.  The  spiritual  instruction  was  likewise 
given  in,  or  close  to  the  Abbey,  because,  except  on  pil- 
grimages. Religious  females  might  not  leave  the  Abbey 
precincts.  All  this  is  well  known  :  and  it  would  be  pre- 
cisely like  other  inconsistent  clamours,  which,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  did  not  stem  me  in  earlier  life,  to  hear 
these  two  facts  asserted — the  immense  charities  of  the 
ancient  Contemplative  Convents,  and  the  novelty  and 
audacity  of  attempting  that  a  modern  Contemplative 
Convent  should  do  the  like !" 

"  Well,  but  these  present  Reverend  Mothers,"  urged 
Mr.  Terrison,  "  and  their  long  experience  ?" 

"Ah!  Reverend  Sir,"  cried  Geruldine,  "if  there  be 
such  an  one  who  now  congratulates  herself,  and  is  com- 
plimented by  partial  friends,  on  the  wisdom,  prudence, 
consistency,  good  sense,  propriety,  and  '  long  experience,' 
of  doing  nothing  for  the  poor,  the  time  will  come  when 
she  will  go  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Him  who  loves  the 
poor,  to  have  it  decided  for  ever  how  far  may  be  ex- 
cused the  self-complacency  of  a  false  conscience.  And 
another  will  succeed  in  her  place,  who  will  have  learned 
that,  in  the  good  old  days  of  England,  the  Contemplative 
Convents  did  immensely  (pr  the  poor,  on  systems  and 
regulations  suited  to  that  state  of  society ;  and  will  con- 
sent that  a  certain  system  and  regulation  suited  to  our 


■--"Siigr' 


tJ- 


MM 


« 


2911 


BOMB   AKD  THB   ABBET 


present  frame-work  of  society  be  adopted,  to  affvird,  on 
the  one  hand,  to  the  poor  around  them  that  temporal  and 
spiritual  relief  which  she  will  feel  it  her  duty  to  bestow, 
^nd  on  the  other,  to  prevent  intrusion  and  confusion 
within  the  convent  walls.  In  order  to  secure  these  bene- 
fits, no  plan  appears  more  practicable  than  that  a  small 
number  of  pious  females  be  attached  to,  and  under  the 
protection  of  the  Convent,  who  shall  be  the  active  agents 
for  the  Recluse  Community.  And  the  time  will  come 
when  every  Bishop,  every  Missionary  Priest,  every  Mo- 
ther Superior,  will  feel  that  the  country  convent  without 
these  is  incomplete." 

"  Why  do  you  exclusively  specify  the  *  country'  con- 
vents k"  said  Mr.  Terrison.  "  Are  there  no  afflicted  poor 
in  great  cities  1  Are  there  not  often  heart-rending  cases 
of  misery  in  crowded  courts  and  alleys,  exceeding  all 
that  our  villages  and  hamlets  could  produce  ?" 

"  There  are,"  replied  she ;  "  but  in  crowded  cities  there 
M*e  now  rising,  thanks  be  to  God !  Sisters  of  Charity  and 
Mercy :  and  if,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  enclosed 
cuiiVto.1^  the  Recluses  might  send  to  them  their  alms  to 
distribute,  either  in  monfey  or  in  articles  of  food  and 
clothing ;  still  it  were  preferable  that  every  cloistered 
convent,  even  in  cities,  should  have  their  two  or  more 
Oblates  to  take  the  benefactions  direct ;  for  the  Recluses 
may  be  too  poor  to  send  money  to  the  Active  Congrega- 
tion near  them,  and  might  be  too  tnuch  humiliated  by 
exposing  the  mere  scraps  of  food  and  clothing  in  their 
power  at  times  to  bestov,  which,  nevertheless,  are 
always  welcome  to  those  totally  destitute." 

"  You  have  just  mentioned,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "  that 
of  which  I  w»s  about  to  remind  you — th«  poverty  of 


°yyi*" 


are 


"that 


ROHK   AND  THB   ABBBT. 


S?tf 


many  of  our  convents  :  a  poverty  fer  beyond  what  their 
vow  requires, — for  I  need  not  tell  one  so  versed  in 
monastic  knowledge,  that  religious  poverty  is  the  re- 
nouncement of  a  personal  right  over  any  property  or 
po8se»«ion,  but  varies  in  degree  respecting  food,  clothing, 
and  other  comforts,  according  to  the  rule  and  constitu- 
tions of  the  convent  in  which  the  vow  is  made.  Were 
it  not  for  this  particular  legislation,  there  would  be  no 
cud  'to  the  scruples  and  vagaries  of  all  you  good 
Nuns." 

« I  am  aware,"  replied  Geraldine,  "  of  the  poverty  of 
several  of  our  convents,  and  also  of  the  charity  of  several 
of  our  rich  convents  in  sending  relief  to  their  Sister 
Spouses  in  Christ  But  this  is  an  accidental  state  of 
things.  We  have  no  Mendicant  Orders,  living  as  such 
in  England;  rents  are  allowed  them.  The  Laborious 
Orders  have  ever,  on  principle,  relieved  the  poor.  Where 
is  the  pious  Catholic  artisan  who,  living  in  the  world, 
does  not  give  alms  of  his  substance  1  He  then  takes  his 
skill  and  knowledge  of  his  art  into  some  laborious  monas> 
tery,  where  he  makes  the  vow  a(  poverty,  and,  as  au 
individual  act.,  can  give  alms  no  more.  But  what  says 
Saint  Benedwt  i^spectJr^  Uie  good  works  to  be  performed 
by  his  munkp — a  chapter  well  known  to  you  ?  Does  be 
not  mention  '  Relieve  the  poor,  clothe  the  naked,  visit  the 
aiok,  bury  the  dead,  counsel  the  doubtful,  consde  the 
afflicted  V  Now,  as  the  holy  legislate  adds  that  the  placr 
in  which  all  these  good  works  are  to  be  performed  is 
within  the  cloisters  of  the  monastery ;  and  the  Council 
of  Trent,  and  P*ipal  Bull,  *  Pericolso,'  having  strictly 
doistered  all  ^l•'  is,  you  might,  were  you  less  learned, 
pbjeet  tu  me  Hy'  the  religious  neipbers  alone  w^re  to 


]'■ 


■■M 


(JLJi 


tuna  AND  THE   ABBKT. 

furnish  all  the  opportunities  for  fulfilling  these  '  uorpo.  1 
and  spiritual  works  of  mercy.'  But  you  know  too  wrU 
the  Benedictine  annals  and  their  law  of  hospitality,  njt 
to  be  aware  that  the  poor  around  were  also  the  objects 
of  all  these  good  works,  and  often  filled  the  lower  end  of 
the  refectory ;  while  the  '  Pilgrim  House'  or  the  hospital 
lodged  the  traveller  or  the  sick;  and  a  part  of  the 
cemetery  was  allotted  to  thv^se  who  died  on  the  monastio 
premises.  If  we  cannot  return  to  those  feudal  manners,- 
•re  we  to  do  nothing  t" 

"  But  I  do  not  think,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison,  "  that  the 
present  Contemplative  Superioresses  and  Communities  in 
England  would  admit  that  they  do  nothing  for  the  poor. 
The  Chaplain,  who,  by  the  way,  is  always  called  '  Almon« 
er'  in  France,  is  the  established  medium  of  benefactiors 
from  the  cloistered  Nuns  to  the  poor ;  and  I  can  at  this 
moment  recal  a  number  of  instances  of  our  cloistered 
English  Communities  sending  relief  in  money  and  rcady> 
made  clothes  to  the  Sisters  of  Charity  and  Mercy,  to  give 
to  the  distressed  poor  :  and  in  the  winter  I  believe  many 
convents  have  given  broth.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  say 
that  they  do  not  relieve  the  poor." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Geraldine,  "  I  will  accept  this  state 
of  things,  if  you  continue  to  wish  it ;  but  you  will  then 
be  &ir]y  within  the  horns  of  a  dilemma,  for  if  the  eii> 
closed  Communities  do  relieve  tlie  poor  occasionally, 
they  admit  the  principle  ;  and  we  have  only  to  ascertain 
whether  the  Reverend  Chaplain,  who  can  make  neither 
broth  nor  gruel,  nor  baby-linen  or  any  other  clothes,  and 
who  sees  these  comforts  are  not  occasionally,  but  con- 
stantly wanted,  would  not  be  thankful  to  be  assisted  by 
ft  couple  or  more  of  piouo  women,  perhaps  in  humble  life, 


I 


-^ 


( '  yorpo.  I 
w  too  Wf '1 
itality,  n-jt 
he  objects 
iwer  end  of 
he  hospital 
tart  of  the 
le  monastic 
il  manners,- 

I, "  that  the 
iraunities  in 
»r  the  poor, 
sd  '  Almon- 
lenefactiors 
can  at  this 
r  cloistered 

and  ready. 
Tcy,  to  give 
2lieve  many 

fair  to  say 

pt  this  state 
>u  will  then 
r  if  the  eu- 
Kicasionally, 
to  ascertain 
lake  neither 
clothes,  and 
ly,  but  con- 
assisted  by 
humble  lifdi 


som  Aso  rns  abbet. 


£81 


who  have  been  trained  to  such  employments,  and  would 
be  his  steady,  persevering  undcr-worlieiu.  We  need  not 
pursue  this  last  question  further :  it  has,  tbunit  God,  been 
answered  abundantly  by  facts.  But  now  for  your  di- 
lemma. On  one  hand  you  would  prove  that  cloistered 
women  do  relieve  the  poor,  thi-ough  the  medium  of  those 
not  bound  to  enclosure ;  and  on  the  other,  you  would 
prove  that  to  propose  their  so  relieving  the  poor  is  a  no* 
velty — an  alarming  excess  of  the  imagination — great 
presumption — " 

"Enough!"  cried  Mr.  Terrison.  "The  horns  would 
toss  me  if  I  deserved  it.  But  remember  that  I  am 
merely  playing  the  part  of  'objector,*  to  force  your  ar- 
guments from  you." 

"  Well  then,"  added  she,  "  take  this  argument  also. 
Are  you  prepared  to  admit  that  the  Benedictine  Order 
has  been  likely  to  be  in  greater  perfection,  that  is  in  the 
fuller  capability  of  fulfilling  all  the  duties  intended  by  its 
holy  founder,  when  cramped  by  penal  restrictions  during 
three  centuries  of  sectarian  bigotry,  that  now,  when, 
emerging  from  its  forced  obscurity,  it  finds  no  limit 
placed  to  its  ancient  power  of  development  ?" 

"  That  question  answers  itself,"  said  he.  "  You  have, 
to  my  mind,  sufficiently  defended  your  cause ;  and  I  be- 
lieve you  consider  it  to  be  the  cause  of  God." 

Geraldine  paused  an  instant,  then  rising,  extended  her 
arms  to  Heaven,  and  said,  so  solemnly  that  Mr.  Terrison 
also  arose  from  his  seat,  "  So  truly  as  I  believe  that  God 
called  me  to  be  a  Catholiu—  so  truly  as  I  believe  God 
called  me  to  be  a  Nun — so  truly  do  I  believe  He  has 
called  me  to  be  foundress  of  the  Benedictine  Solitaries 
and  Handmaids  of  Jesus  and  Mary  !" 


ii/ 


mm 


BOm  Aim  THI  ABBIT. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


I  wu  o'er  th«  earth  In  that  itlll  bowr  | 
For  deep  and  lolenin  in  its  miKhtjr  power 
T>><t  voice  of  Ood  had  quelled  the  hum  of  mtB, 
And  Mranded  forth  HU  long  myiterioui  plan. 


Thb  nioniing  after  her  explanatory  conversation  witb  tha 
Reverend  Mr.  Terrison,  our  Religious  Pilgrim,  after  holy 
Mass  and  Communion,  heard  a  voice  within  her  saying, 
"  They  shall  know  that  I  have  loved  thee !"  After  some 
instants  of  awe  and  gratitude  she  endeavoured  to  recal 
the  thoughts  that  had  occupied  her  mind  at  the  moment 
of  that  favour,  and  discovered  that,  having  previously 
traced  in  the  retrospect  her  painful  struggles  before 
entering  the  Catholic  Church,  and  again  before  ci  oring 
Religion — and  having  recalled  the  pious  and  beloved  ob- 
jects, in  the  first  instance,  who  had  upraided  her,  and  the 
pious  and  esteemed  friends,  in  the  second  instance,  who 
had  opposed  her,  she  was  then  reflecting  on  the  constant 
opposition  which  Almighty  God  permitted,  and  even 
seemed  to  will  should  accompany  all  she  did  for  Him  ; 
•nd  although  she  continued  making  acts  of  resignation, 
•nd  humbled  herself  anew  before  Him,  still  she  felt 
unusually  discouraged,  and  even  alarmed,  that  heads  of 
religious  houses  should  persecute  her ;  therefore,  inHhat 
hour  of  desolation  it  was  said  to  her,  "  They  shall  know 
that  I  have  loved  thee  I"  The  deep  and  immoveable 
impressicm  made  on  her  mind,  caused  her  hoiceforth  to 


■MpMMiH'HMfHftHMI  II  mft". 


BOU  AMD  TH>  ABBST. 


288 


decline  any  more  explanatory  conversations,  or  the  en> 
deavour  in  any  way  to  conciliate  those  who  opposed  her, 
ftirther  than  by  meek  silence  and  intercessory  prayer. 
Two  exceptions  only  were  made  to  this  silence,  and  then 
all  was  left  to  Him  until  he  should  again  by  His  Provi- 
dence present,  or  by  His  Inspirations  urge,  fresh  labours 
for  His  love.  The  first  exception  was  by  letter  to  an 
English  convert  to  the  Faith ;  the  second  was  in  conver- 
sation  with  an  English  prelate  who  hiformed  her  that  her 
idea  of  training  a  small  band  of  Active  Sisters  to  dis- 
pense thebenefections  ofthe  Contemplative  convent,  with 
power,  if  so  mspired  and  spirituaQy  advised,  to  pass  fW)m 
the  Active  to  the  Contemplative  life,  had  already  been 
earned  into  effect  under  the  Benedictine  rule,  and  that  in 
Belgium  alone  were  eight  such  convents. 

"  Ah !  Mr.  Terrison,"  cried  our  Pilgrim,  after  the  de- 
parture of  the  Bishop,  who  was  himself  a  Benedictine, 
•  What  is  now  to  become  of  the  charge  of  novelty  and 
innovation  ?  Eight  religious  houses  in  Belgium !  where, 
under  this  very  rule  of  Saint  Benedict,  this  '  dangerous* 
WD'*  '  visionary'  scheme  of  mind  has  been  carried  on,  we 
mi4M>  suppose,  for  years,  by  means  of  the  Oblates,  who 
have  always  formed  a  part  of  the  Community  of  the 
ancient  Abbey." 

"  And  the  dedicated  children,"  demanded  Mr.  Terrison, 
•who  have  been  gradually  superceded  by  gay  young 
pensioners?  Do  you  remember  that  in  the  'Ageaof 
Faith,'  under  the  Benedictine  rule,  ihe  child,  with  its  little 
hand  wrapped  in  the  altar-cloth,  was  solemnly  dedicated 
by  its  pareatfl  or  natural  guardians  to  the  angelic  life  of 
the  cloister  r 


284 


ROME    AND   THK    ADBBT. 


i 


"  Ah,  blessed  lot !"  excluinied  our  Pilgrim,  "  when  tbu« 
early  dedicated,  so  that  in  ufler-years  no  record  can  in- 
trude to  Hhudow  the  bright  line  of  pure  and  blest 
remembrance." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Miss  Graham,  who  had  just  entered 
the  rocm,  "  it  is  tliis  very  •  pure  and  blest,'  if  you  will, 
but  restricted  and  monotonous  life,  which  prevents  these 
early  dedicated,  these  good,  circumscribed  devotees  from 
comprehending  you,  and  which  makes  them  all  look  oif 
ycu  an  the  very  Catiline  of  your  day." 

"  I  do  not  quite  think  thus,"  replied  our  Geraldine, 
smiling,  "  for  it  has  been  in  silence  and  in  solitude  tha& 
great  and  noble  minds  have  conceived  the  most  wide- 
spread schemes  of  charity.  The  bidden  Solitary  has  fol- 
lowec*  in  the  closest  ties  of  thought  and  prayer,  the 
distant  Missionary,  and  dropped  tears  of  exulting  joy  on 
the  records  of  his  martyrdom.  Such  was  the  spiritual 
tie  between  Saint  Teresa  and  Saint  Francis  Xavier ;  and 
•  in  these  our  own  days,  where  are  the  Annals  of  the  Pro- 
pagation  of  the  Faith  with  most  attention  and  devotion 
read,  and  read  again,  with  many  a  tear  and  aspiration  for 
success  ?  Why,  in  cloistered  cell  and  chapter-room  by 
chosen  minds." 

"Well,  but  candidly  speaking,"  said  Miss  Graham, 
•'  they  have  perhaps  no  merit  in  this.  Recluses  are  over 
fond  of  anecdotes ;  and  these  Annals  are  very  enter 
tainiiig." 

"  Ah !"  continued  Geraldine, "  I  speak  not  of  those  who 
read  but  for  excitement,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  have 
a  confused  and  wearied  remembrance  of  tortured  Chinesa 
and  martyred  Jesmts,  and  who  would  like  a  new  story. 


SOMB  AND  TBI  ABBIT. 


S88 


book.  Such  as  these  listen  day  after  day  to  the  '  Lives 
of  Saints*  as  the^r  would  to  Fortunatus's  Wishing-cap,  or 
Aladdin's  Wonderful  Lamp :  such  are  uicapable  of  prac> 
tically  feeling  sympathy  with  the  thoughts  and  actions  of 
past  or  living  Saints :  such  are  incapable  of  a  generous 
appreciation  of  a  career  not  their  own :  and  such  are  to  be 
found,  I  grant  you,  even  in  the  cloister ;  but  they  are  not 
peculiar  to,  or  even  of  more  frequency  in  the  recluse  life. 
A  contracted  mind,  whether  '  in  court  or  camp  or  grove,' 
will  ever  oppose,  if  it  do  not  persecute,  a  scope  of  action 
it  cannot  grasp." 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  mind,'  and  not  'heart,' "  said  Mr. 
Terrison,  "  in  speaking  of  those  who  oppose  you  1" 

"  Because,"  replied  Geraldine,  "  it  is  there  the  contrao* 
tion  is  found.  These  vury  persons,  could  they  but  com- 
prehend what  a  Benedictine  Abbey  was  in  the  old 
Catholic  times  of  England,  would  love  and  promote  its 
success." 

"And  what  vms  an  Abbey  in  the  olden  timet"  dd> 
manded  Katherine  Graham. 

"It  was  a  large  warm  heart,"  replied  Geraldine; 
"  every  pulsation  diffusing  its  life-blood  through  the  de* 
pendent  body  ;  fbll  of  love,  full  of  action,  full  of  sym- 
pathy  for  every  joy  or  sorrow  of  this  chequered  life ; 
ho<ipitable  to  both  rich  and  poor,  a  cheerful  giver — a  little 
«ri>rld  created  anew  to  the  fear  and  love  of  God :  sur- 
roupded  by  the  world  invisible  in  intimate  communion : 
sounding  forth  in  choir-song  each  record  of  the  >ear 
ecclesiastical :  receiving  the  responses  of  the  peasantry 
•round.  Each  one  having  her  allotted  task  or  office 
'«lone  with  Grod  in  holy  silenoe :  then  again  uniting  in 


i'TPP 


286 


KOU   AKD  TBI  ABBET. 


f 


the  general  voice  of  praise.  A  refuge  for  the  innou^t; 
refreshment  to  the  weary  and  heavy  laden ;  a  shelter  to 
the  penitent.  The  inmates  obedient  to  the  subordinate 
Superiors,  and  they  obedient  to  their  Head." 

"Well,  and  the  children,  the  dedicated  children — I 
must  return  to  them,"  said  Mr.  Terrison.  "  The  restored 
Abbey  is  not  complete  without  them  ?" 

"  Children,  especially  orphans,  will  eventually  be  r^ 
ceived  by  the  blessing  of  God,"  said  the  Religious,  "  but 
cannot  be  considered  as  forming  a  separate  branch,  or 
making  a  separate  demand  on  the  care  of  the  Community, 
as  they  will  join  in  all  the  duties  of  the  Abbey,  and  never 
leave  it,  except  from  their  own  deliberate  choice,  or  com- 
mand of  Superiors,  when  arrived  at  years  of  discretion." 

"  They  will,  I  suppose,  have  some  one  to  take  especial 
care  of  them,  however,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "  when  they 
are  not  following  the  duties  of  the  Religious,  and  who, 
according  to  rule,  must  not  box  their  ears  fur  any  pranks 
after  the  age  of  fifteen.  I  love  to  look  at  these  young 
creatures,  who  know  no  more  of  the  excitements  of 
the  world  than  lister  Agnes  does  of  the  lives  of  cele- 
brated actresHes ;  and  yet  who  give  you  more  sunny 
smiles  than  I  have  found  from  any  child  in  gilded  draw- 
ing-rooms. I  make  no  exception  in  favour  of  the  littla 
Sultana  below,  although  she  be  surrounded  by  all  that 
the  world  calls  happiness;  aiid  her  very  name  says 
'  gladness'." 

"  Letitia  is,  however,  as  happy  as  any  cluld  can  be  in 
her  own  way,"  said  Miss  Graham ;  "  that  is,  in  the  way 
of  an  only  child,  always  surrounded  by  grown-up  per- 
KN19,    ^M  wodd  not  be  happy  amongst  yonr  UttU 


li 


SA^-Z. 


the  innou^t; 
;  a  shelter  to 
I  subordinate 

I  children — I 
The  restored 

itually  be  re- 
sligious, "  but 
te  branch,  or 
!  Community, 
ley,  and  never 
loice,  or  com- 
f  discretion." 

take  especial 
,  "  when  they 
)U8,  and  who, 
i)r  any  pranks 
;  these  young 
xcitements  of 
lives  of  cele- 

more  sunny 
.  gilded  draw* 
r  of  the  littlQ 
id  by  all  that 
y  name  says 

liild  can  be  in 
is,  in  the  way 
prown-up  pet- 
it yoar  Uttto 


ROMK  AND  TBI  ABBKT. 


sat 


eonvcnt  girls ;  she  would  rather  play  with  her  parrot, 
and  invent  her  solitary  dramas,  in  which  she  makes  her 
personages  enact  a  very  exalted  part." 

"  I  am  expecting  my  little  sister  this  afternoon,"  said 
the  Recluse,  "  when  you  will  both  have  an  opportunity 
of  judging  how  &r  joy  will  affect  the  usual  calm  of  her 
demeanour ;  for  I  have  prevailed  on  my  Father  to  con- 
sult medical  men  here  whether  Letitia's  health  will  not 
be  imp1x>ved  by  a  residence  of  some  years  in  a  still 
hotter  climate ;  reminding  him  also  that  in  Calcutta  there 
is  a  Community  of  exemplary  and  accomplished  Religious 
Ladies,  devoted  to  the  instruction  of  young  persons  des- 
tined for  the  world.  Last  night  he  informed  me  that  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  Letitia  to  India :  and  I 
received  a  grateful  and  aiTecting  visit  from  Lady  Elverton 
tins  morning,  which  was  too  confidential  to  admit  the 
presence  of  Letitia." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  expectant  visitor  entered,  attend- 
ed by  her  Spanish  duenna,  her  English  governess,  her 
French  maid,  and  her  Italian  footman ;  the  latter  having 
always  been  deemed  necessary  to  clear  the  way  for  his 
little  lady,  when  permitted  to  ascend  by  the  public  stairs 
to  the  rooms  of  her  sister.  The  window  of  the  grating 
was  thrown  open  as  Letitia  appeared,  who,  advancing  to 
it,  took  the  hand  of  the  Religious,  which  she  pressed,  first 
to  her  lips,  then  to  her  forehead,  in  silence.  She  then 
oourtesied  to  Miss  Gr&iiam ;  but  took  no  notice  of  Mr. 
Terrison,  who  had  pushed  his  chair  mto  the  curtained  re- 
cess and  she  now  seemed  to  expect  an  invitation  to  be 
seated.  Hiis  form  having  been  gone  through,  Letitia 
herself,  then  bowed  permisBi<Hi  to  Donna  Candida, 


MBM 


''•"'"•',  ...  , 


'    «^fcH^Wi*._,;;_^ 


988 


ROUK  AND  TBB   ABBET. 


who  bowed  permission  to  the  governess,  who  bowed  per 
mission  to  the  maid,  to  take  each  the  chair  which  the 
footman  had  placed  before  he  withdrew  to  wait  m  the 
ante-room.  The  preliminaries  were  not  yet  over.  It 
would  seem  that  Letitia  could  not  express  the  feelings  of 
her  heart  while  her  little  feet  dangled  in  the  air,  there- 
fore  the  maid  searched  and  discovered  a  footstool,  wliich 
she  took  to  Donna  Candida,  who  placed  it  under  Letitia's 
feet ;  and  the  speech  of  thanks  composed  by  the  gover* 
ness,  and  recited  several  times  during  the  hours  of  anti- 
oipation,  thus  began : — 

"  It  is  sweet  and  joyful  to  my  heart  to  know  that  to 
my  most  reverend  and  illustrious  sister  I  am  indebted  for 
the  unexpected  happinesr  of  accompanying  my  parents 
to  India.  I  should  have  felt  the  double  sorrow  of  their 
grief  and  my  own,  and  remained  some  years  an  orphan. 
Therefore,  in  remembrance  of  the  fraternal  benefit  I  have 
received,  and  of  the  need  I  shall  have  of  her  prayers,  I 
make  a  humble  oflfering  to  my  sister's  convent  of  four 
gilded  vases  with  flowers,  and  four  gilded  candlesticks  for 
the  altar." 

The  flower-vases  and  candlesticks  having  been  brought 
ap  from  below  were  now  produced,  and,  as  they  haid 
been  chosen  by  the  parents,  were  in  beautiful  and  appro* 
priate  convent  taste.  Mr.  Terriaon  peeped  out  a  little, 
not,  as  he  afterwards  protested  to  Katherine  Graham,  to 
look  at  the  presents,  but  to  ascertain  whether,  on  the 
V>ng  black  lashes  of  I^^titia's  eye,  glistened  a  tear.  "  Not 
tt  all,"  said  Katherine;  "  but  how  could  the  dear  child 
feel  any  emotion  tSter  so  many  rehearsals  of  her  grati< 
lude  and  joy.    She  is  being  brought  up  to  be  completely 


to  bowed  po^ 
Eiir  which  die 
}  wait  in  the 
^et  over.  It 
he  feelings  of 
he  air,  thero- 
otstool,  winch 
nder  Letitia's 
»y  the  gover- 
liours  of  anti* 

know  that  to 
1  indebted  for 
g  my  parents 
rrow  of  their 
rs  an  orpha)i. 
benefit  I  have 


ler  prayers, 


I 


nvent  of  four 
ndlesticks  fur 

been  brought 
,  as  they  hod 
111  and  appro> 
[  out  a  little, 
le  Graham,  to 
lether,  on  the 
ktear.  "Not 
he  dear  child 
of  her  grati- 
>e  completely 


MWE   AM)  TBS  XVBKT. 


Ml 


ihe  higbboni  lady — gracious,  scU^possessed,  conferring 
benefits,  and,  if  receiving  them,  immediately  acknowl- 
edging the  compliment  or  the  kindness  by  a  prompt  and 
exceeding  return :  and  it  seems  to  me  that,  tliere  is  but 
little  diflference  in  the  discipline  of  the  convent  novitiate 
end  the  high  world's  school-room,  with  respect  to  the 
self-control  exacted ;  and  that  it  would  be  far  easier  for 
Letitia  to  endure  the  monotony  and  precision  of  the  con- 
vent life,  than  for  that  ardent  child  of  nature,  Lilia,  were 
she  not  also  and  pre-eminently  a  child  of  grace." 

"  The  wild  gazelle  on  Judah's  plain,"  said  Mr.  Terri- 
feiOB,  smiling,  "  who  is  now  content  to  put  her  neck  into 
%he  sweet  yoke  of  Christ  aiid  bear  His  burden,  whiofa  w 
light." 

"  And  her  convent  disoipluie  is  not  suddenly,  but  gr»- 
duaHy  circumscribing  her  view  of  the  world,  to  open  the 
vision  of  Heaven.  Our  English  Postulant  in  Rome  is 
still  permitted  to  roam  to  sacred  spots  and  attend  the 
great  functions  in  the  churches ;  vid  we  are  now  all  mak- 
ing use  of  the  time  of  her  postulancy  to  show  her  every- 
diing  not  yet  seen.  Mr.  Everard  is  her  chief  conductor 
on  these  occasions ;  but  she  is  always  accompanied  by 
that  good  Mrb.  Moss,  who  dresses  modestly  in  black,  and 
who  mforms  me  that,  '  if  anything  should  happen  to  Mr. 
Everard,'  whidi  is,  by  the  way,  an  odd  expression  we 
English  have, '  she  shall  b<^  me  to  use  my  iuiluenoe  with 
Lady  de  Grey  to  bo  admitted  as  a  confidential  Lay  Sis- 
ter in  tiie  Abbey.' '' 

During  this  conversation  Mr.  Everard  had  been  pay- 
ing a  long-promised  visit,  and  on*  on  which  he  feasted  in 
the  retrospect,  to  the  Irish  Domlnioau  Convent  of  Saint 
18 


KOHK  AHD  TBI  ABBBT. 

Marj  on  Minerva,  where  his  principal  attractitnis  hod 
been  the  library  and  the  hall  of  the  Inquisition.  "When 
Arrived  there,  however,  with  his  letter  of  introdoction  to 
the  holy  Bislisp  McF.,  he  was  so  fascinated  by  the  va- 
ried literature,  the  mild  benevolence,  and  gracefiil  cos- 
tume of  his  new  Dominican  friend,  that  he  nearly  forgot 
the  original  objects  of  his  visit,  and  returned  on  tlie  fol* 
lowing  day  to  bestow  on  them  his  whole  attciition.  "A 
happy  life,"  said  he,  thinkuig  alocd  that  evening—"  a 
happy  life  to  have  rendered  service  to  God  in  active  life, 
in  the  pastoral  charge,  and  then,  as  so  many  Saints  have 
done,  to  retire  within  the  doistrai  home  of  his  Order ; 
especially  in  this  the  holy  capital  of  Christendom,  with 
an  appointment  near  the  Papal  throne,  so  that,  seated  oa 
the  step  of  his  prefigured  home  divine,  he  may  anticipate 
ta  qoktade  hia  near  tnaalatkn  to  its  realiUea  abover 


ictKiiis  hod 
jn.  "When 
odoction  to 

by  the  v» 
raceful  cos- 
«arly  forgot 

on  tlie  ibl* 
ation.  "A 
renmg — "  a 
1  active  life, 
Saints  have 
bis  Order ; 
ndom,  vitb 
,t,  seated  oa 
y  antidpato 


worn  AMD  TBX  ABBSr  291 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

I  fUad  upon  the  edge  of  tine,  end  view 
The  heaTenljr'oity,  end  the  world  below  | 

Eternity,  with  ell  thet'i  bright  end  tme  ; 
Time,  ihort  end  derit.  bedeolted  In  eaptjr  ihe<.r. 

It  was  Oil  an  intensely  hot  day  that  Mr.  Everard  fulfilled 
a  promise  to  Lilia  to  take  her  with  him  and  Mrs.  Moss 
to  see  and  taste  of  the  three  fountains  which  miraculously 
sprang  forth  at  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Paul.     The  sacred 
spot  is  a  long  but  pleasant  drive  out  of  Bome,  and  the 
carriage  being  partly  covered,  Lilia  sat  between  her  two 
friends  on  the  sheltered  seat,  full  of  ple&sant  anticipation, 
and  little  thinking  tliat  she  was  taking  her  last  excursion 
with  her  valued  guardian  and  friend.    The  church  of  St. 
Paul's  was  about  half-way,  oiid  Lilia  was  further  indulged 
by  viewing  its  then  finished  interior,  of  listening  with 
real  interest  to  the  details  of  the  former  conflagration, 
and  of  viewing  whatever  remains  still  deserved  being 
shown  to  visitors,  the  chief  of  these  being  the  decorated 
mosaics  and  fluted  pillars  of  the  Benedictine  cloisters. 
The  rest  of  the  way  to  the  "  Three  Fountains"  was  occu- 
pied by  recalling  with  Mr.  Everard  their  tour  to  the 
Lakes,  two  years  before,  with  all  its  interesting  circum- 
Btanctfi,  and  by  comparing  the  difierent  and  often  strongly 
oontrasted  beauties  of  Italy  and  England.    Then  they 
amused  themselves  a  little  with  the  sports  of  the  lizards, 
till  they  arrived  at  the  church  and  oratories  built  on  the 
commemorative  scene  of  the  martyrdom  of  Saint  Paul. 
Lilia  hac  already  seen  the  little  chapel,  a  small  distance 
beyond  the  walla  of  Rome,  built  on  the  spot  where  tiM 


ISBMI! 


w* 


.w^ 


tn 


KDSn   AKD  TBK   ABBXT'. 


holy  Apostles,  Saints  Peter  and  Paul,  had  parted  on 
earth,  soon  to  meet  for  ever  in  Heaven ;  and  whence  St. 
Peter  was  led  back  within  the  walls  of  the  city  to  be 
crucified,  and  St.  Paul  brought  on  to  the  pot  whereon 
the  stood.  Hiis  separation  of  the  two  Apostles  was 
owing  to  Saint  Paul  having,  as  a  native  of  Tarsus,  the 
nme  privileges  as  a  Roman  citizen,  and  consequent  ex- 
emption from  the  disgraceful  and  public  death  to  which 
Saint  Peter  was  condemned  in  Rome.  First  she  beheld 
where  stood  the  block  on  which  rested  the  martyr's  head ; 
then,  a  few  feet  distant,  the  warm  fountain  which  gushed 
forth  where  the  sacred  head  fell,  and  followed  to  the 
cooler  spring  where  the  head  rebounded,  and  to  the  cold 
fountain  of  its  last  rebound.  The  awe  with  which  Lilia 
drank  of  these  throe  fountains  was,  like  them,  pure  and 
fi-edi,  firom  never  having  been  entertained  with  those  ex- 
a^erated  accounts  which  lead  to  disappointment ;  and 
she  returned  full  of  gratitude  to  Mr.  Everard  for  having 
procured  her  this  sacred  treat  He  was  ftiU  of  thought. 
M  and  sileitit  enjoyment  during  the  first  mile  of  their  re- 
turn,  but  then  began  in  his  usual  mode  to  comment  on 
the  past,  and  project  for  ^e  future. 

" Lily,"  said  hfe,  "can  anything  be  more  foil  of  con- 
viction to  theteason,  as  tvell  as  touching  to  the  feelings, 
than  tliese  minor  records  of  the  last  days,  and  of  the 
martyrdoms  of  Saints  Peter  and  Paul,  that  abound  in 
Borne !  We  have  to-day  followed  Saint  Paul ;  the  next 
time  we  go  out  together  we  ln»rat  flee  the  little  chap -il  on 
the  Appian  Way,  built  over  the  spot  where  Saint  Peter, 
flying  firom  the  threatened  martyrdom  in  the  city,  met 
bis  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  exclaijned,  •  Lord,  where  go. 
wt  thou  f  (DomhvB  41(0  vadisi)  (6  which  our  Lord  re 


BOHK  AND  TRS  ABBXT. 


2M 


[  parted  on 
[  whence  St. 
city  to  be 
)ot  whereon 
postles  was 
Tarsus,  the 
sequent  ox- 
tth  to  which 
;  she  beheld 
rtyr's  head ; 
hich  gushed 
iwed  to  the 
i  to  the  cold 
which  Lilia 
n,  pure  and 
th  those  ex- 
tment;  and 
1  for  having 
of  thought. 
)  of  their  re- 
x>mment  on 

full  of  oon- 
the  feelings, 
,  and  of  the 
;  abound  in 
111;  the  next 
tie  <;hap-il  on 
Saint  Peter, 
he  city,  met 
d,  where  go- 
or  Lord  re- 


plied, '  To  be  crucified  again  in  Rome.'  Saint  Peter, 
understanding  that  his  flight  would  crucify  the  Lord 
afresh,  immediately  returned  to  the  city,  and  the  mode 
of  his  death  being  left  to  his  own  choice,  he  was  cruc*: 
fied,  and  with  his  head  downward,  from  humility,  and  in 
repentance  for  his  flight.  Did  you  know  this  story^ 
Lily  r 

"  I  knew  only  that  a  little  chapel  on  the  way  to  Albano 
was  called  the  '  Oomine  quo  vadis,'"  replied  Lilia.  "  I 
perceived  that  the  Princess  and  her  ladies  were  quite 
aware  that  the  chapel  was  one  of  great  interest,  for  they 
stopped  in  their  conversation,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
and  became  very  recollected.  I  did  not  like  to  interrupt 
this  holy  silence,  and  therefore  lost  the  opportunity  of 
knowing  the  origin  of  the  chapel ;  for  when  the  conver- 
sation was  resumed,  it  was  with  such  animation  and  en- 
grossed interest,  that  I  felt  too  timid  to  intrude  on  it." 

•'Well,  we  will  first  go  there,"  said  Mr.  Everard; 
"  and  we  will  then  visit  the  Mammertine  prison  at  the 
foot  of  the  Capitol,  which.  Moss,  is  your  &vourite  Cam- 
pidoglio;  and  after  viewing  that  great  Apostle  in  his 
dungeon,  we  will  proceed  up  the  steep  hill  of  his  martyr* 
dom  to  S.  Pietro  in  Montorio,  the  church  which  covers 
the  actual  spot  where  his  cross  was  planted,  and  which 
hole  in  the  rock  will  be  shown  us  thiough  a  grating.  We 
will  get  some  of  the  dust  then  given  us  in  papers  by  the 
Franciscans  who  serve  that  church;  and  then  we  will 
visit  the  church  nearer  our  present  home,  San  Pietro  ad 
Vinculo,  where  are  his  chains.  And  finally,  we  will  hear 
Mass  in  the  subterranean  chapel  of  his  tomb  in  St.  Pe- 
ter's, the  great  basilic — though  you  have  already  had  this 
last  treat,  Lily."  , 


T'^^'jj'iS'-&Ji:^  k-flfc-^i^ 


JOl 


BOMB  AND  TB'   ABBKT. 


**  Yes,**  replied  Lilia ;  "  but  my  thoughts  were  thai 
day  very  much  confused.    I  should, like  to  go  again." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he.  "  Talie  care,  Moss,  that  when* 
ever  we  are  to  he  pulled  up  that  st«ep  pitch  of  a  hill  to 
San  Pietro  in  Montorio,  whence,  by  the  bye,  is  one  of 
the  finest  views  of  Rome,  talce  care  we  have  good 
horses." 

'*  I  cannot  take  any  care  about  the  horses,"  pleaded 
Mrs.  Moss.  "  I  can  only  say  *  Ce  latte  V  or  '  Latte  non 
0*6',  for  your  tea.  Sir;  so  you  had  best  arrange  now 
yourself  with  the  coachman." 

Hiis  was  accomplished,  and  they  were  just  re-entering 
Rome  when  Mr.  Everard  complained  of  headache  and 
(hintness,  and  was  glad,  on  his  return  to  the  pious  Locan> 
da,  to  rest  on  the  sofa  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening. 
Mrs.  Moss  was  not  alarmed,  although  she  suggested  that 
he  might  have  caught  cold  by  going  on  so  hot  a  day,  for, 
said  she,  "  In  spite  of  the  cloak  and  the  comforter  to 
prevent  your  feeling  it  strike  a  chill  inside  them  build* 
ings,  'twas  impossible  not  to  feel  it  to  the  feet  and  in  the 
breath."  The  next  day  Mr.  Everard,  after  a  feverish 
night,  sent  for  the  medical  friend  who  had  attended  him 
during  the  winter,  and  who,  from  some  experience  of  his 
constitution  and  long  experience  of  the  climate,  was  well 
able  to  investigate  the  symptoms  of  his  illness.  The 
only  fact  which  Dr.  Granada  found  it  difficult  to  ascertain 
was  the  age  of  the  patient,  which  now,  for  the  first  timo, 
he  seemed  anxious  to  know.  Mr.  Everard  told  him  ho 
was  "  past  sixty  ;"  to  which  Dr.  Granada,  bowing,  replied 
"Sicuro !"  and  repeated  the  question  to  Mrs.  Moss  hi  a 
low  tone,  in  the  adjoining  room,  through  the  medium  of 


Donna  Candida,  the  kind  Spanish  lady  who  spoke  £u- 


ROm  Ain>  THB  ABBXr. 


SM 


I  were  thai 
0  again.*' 
,  that  when* 
of  a  hill  to 
e,  is  one  of 
have  good 

8,"  pleaded 

'  Latte  non 

rrange  now 

re-entering 
sadache  and 
ious  Locan> 
the  evening. 
;gested  that 
t  a  day,  for, 
amforter  to 
them  build' 
t  and  in  the 
■  a  feverish 
;tended  hira 
'ience  of  his 
te,  was  well 
Iness.  The 
to  ascertain 
e  first  timo, 
told  him  ho 
ring,  replied 
I.  Moss  hi  a 

medium  of 
}  spoke  £u> 


gllsh,  and  whose  knowledge  of  Italian,  a  language  so 
•Hied  to  her  own,  was  suilicient  for  all  useful  purposes. 
Mrs.  Moss  stated  that,  "  as  Mr.  Everard  had  said  he  was 
'  past  sixty'  now  going  on  nine  years,  he  must  be  near 
upon  his  seventieth  year."  Tlie  medical  gentleman  theii 
told  her  that  the  complaint  was,  he  feared,  the  gastric 
fever,  and  that  he  had  but  little  hope  of  recovery.  With 
the  prpmise  of  returning  late  in  the  evening,  and  leavuig 
his  prescription.  Dr.  Granada  withdrew,  and  the  heart- 
stricken  Mrs.  Moss  returned  to  the  invalid ;  and  that  he 
might  make  the  proper  prepat  ation  of  a  person  in  danger, 
without  becoming  too  much  agitated,  she  informed  him 
that  the  Doctor  thought  he  had  the  Roman  fever,  but  she 
had  "  heard  tell  that  them  fevers  dragged  on  a  long  time, 
whether  for  life  or  death,  and  that,  to  be  sure,  he  would 
ehoose  whichever  God  chose  for  Wm." 

Mr.  Everard  made  no  reply ;  but  Mrs.  Moss  perceived 
by  the  filling  of  the  veins  on  his  temples  that  he  was 
aware  that  she  announced  his  danger,  and  was  much 
aflected.  She  therefore  began  to  attract  his  attention  to 
the  menns  to  be  used  for  his  recovery,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  ho  became  quit<  calm,  and  even  cheerful.  He 
thought  that  perhaps  Moss,  between  her  attachment  to 
his  person  and  anxiety  for  his  soul,  had  exa^erated  the 
Doctor's  opinion ;  nevertheless,  he  determined  to  send 
imntediately  for  his  Father  Confessor,  and  for  th»»  two 
EnRlish  Religious  ladies  who  had  been  taken  from  Albano 
to  Lnrl  lia,  to  attend  the  death-bed  of  the  pious  and  much 
beloved  Countess  G— ,  the  intimate  friend  of  the  rrin- 
Bosses.  The  symptoms  of  danger  increased  during  the 
two  following  days,  and  as  the  religious  fiiend  whom 
Xf  rs.  Moss  most  .wished  to  nonsuit  was  still  absent,  she 


9M 


ROME    AKR   TBI   ABBICT. 


determined,  in  the  evening  of  the  fifth  day,  whon  some 
alight  symptoms  of  delirium  had  alarmed  her,  to  send  for 
Mr.  Everard's  early  friend,  Lord  Elverton.  Donna  Can- 
dida, who  took  the  message,  brought  back  word,  that  had 
his  Lordship  been  aware  his  old  friend  was  in  danger,  he 
would  have  made  his  personal  inquiries  sooner,  and  that 
he  hoped  to  visit  the  sick-room  witlan  an  hour.  As  tho 
appointed  time  drew  near  Mrs.  Moss  and  Donna  Candida 
rejoiced  the  more,  as  Mr.  Everard,  who  knew  nothing  of 
the  intended  visit,  began  the  more  to  alarm  them  by  his 
•ppai'oiil  aberration  of  mind. 

"We  ought,  however,  to  be  consoled,"  said  DonnA 
Candida,  "  that  the  sick  person's  mind  wanders  on  holy 
things ;  and  sure  enough  our  blessed  Lady  and  her  holy 
Mother  will  succour  him,  he  calls  on  them  so  often." 

Mrs.  Moss  did  not  reply,  for  she  would  not  betray  hei 
respected  friend's  secrets,  and  she  suspected  that,notwit)w 
standing  the  love  and  veneration  which  Mr.  Everard  bore 
to  the  most  holy  Virgin  and  to  St.  Anne,  another  image 
than  theirs  filled  his  mind.  At  length  his  Lordship 
appeared,  and  Mrs.  Moss,  preceding  him  to  the  side  i^ 
the  sick-bed,  informed  its  restless  inmate  that  Lord  Elver 
ton  desired  to  visit  him.  She  then  beckoned  his  Lordsljip 
to  approach ;  but  Mr.  Everard,  who  had  not  attended  to 
hor  words,  started  on  seeing  him,  and  exclaimed  "  Who 
if  this?" 

"  Lord  Elverton,  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Moss 
"  Who  is  Lord  Elverton  1"  demanded  the  dying  mao^ 
"  Bless  me !  don't  you  know  ?"  cried  she,  terrified. 
••  Why  it  is  the  General — General  Carrington," 

"Oh,  yes  !"  said  he,  "  1  remember  now.  Come  herc^ 
General." 


_i 


ion  some 
)  send  for 
mna  Can- 
,  that  had 
anger,  he 
,  and  that 
As  tho 
i  Candida 
nothing  of 
ixii  by  his 

id  Donna 
re  on  holy 
1  her  holy 
Dften." 
betray  her 
it,notwith. 
erard  bore 
ther  image 
Lordship 
the  side  ivf 
rf)rd  Elve» 
is  Lordsl)ip 
attended  to 
led  "  Who 


dying  man^ 
i,  terrified. 
I." 
Come  here^ 


_      fey' 


BOIM   AXO  nu  ABBIT. 


SOT 


Lord  Elverton  approached,  and  took  the  chair  placed 

Ibr  him. 

"  General  Carrington,"  said  Mr.  Everard, "  answer  me, 
Where  is  Anna-Maria?" 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Lord  Elverton  8<rflly,  "she 
has  long  been  dead." 

"  Dead !"  cried  Mr.  Everard.    «  The  soul  cannot  die. 
"No,"  returned  his  Lordship;  "that  soul,  we  must 
trust,  is  in  peace." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  1"  cried  the  sick  man.  "  How 
can  you  answer  for  that !  you,  who  might  have  made  her 
a  Catholic,  and  did  not.  Was  it  because  you  did  not 
know  the  truth  1  No !  It  was  all  vile  human  respect ! 
Where  is  she  t  I  say,  whore  is  she  1  Where  is  the  pre- 
cious  soul  of  Auna-Maria  Sinclair  1" 

Lord  Elverton,  most  suddenly  and  powerfully  moved, 
arose,  and  waved  Ms  hand  to  Mrs.  Moss,  who  was  leaving 
the  room,  to  close  the  door  of  communication.  "  Everard," 
said  he  at  length,  "  you  are  surely  not  going  to  belie  your 
whole  life  by  turning  bigot  in  your  last  moments  X" 

"  General,"  said  Mr.  Everard, "  I  see  into  both  worlds ! 
I  see  the  brevity  of  time,  and  the  '  for  ever,  for  ever'  of 
eternity !  I  gave  you  up  through  this  brief  time  the  first 
love  of  my  heart— you  became  the  husband  of  Anna- 
Maria,  and  the  fi^ther  of  her  chUd— I  bore  it  all— but 
eternity !  eternity  l" 

Lord  Elverton  spread  his  handkerchief  over  his  &ce, 
but  this  only  increased  the  emotion  of  Mr.  Everard,  who 
then  cried,  "  You  have  lost  her,  and  would  have  lost  her 
child,  but  for  tiie  extraordinary  grace  of  God !  Where 
art  thou,  Anna-Maria  1" 
"  Evemd,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  she  is  safe." 
18* 


Ss08 


ROMK   AND  THE   ABBET. 


"How  do  I  know  that?"  replied  he.  "Gin  I  taK« 
your  word  for  it  ?  I  now  for  the  first  time  see  the  differ^ 
ence  between  the  hope  of  human  aflTection  and  the  hope 
of  faith.  We  do  Itnow  what  becomes  of  Catholtts, 
whether  they  are  detained  in  the  abode  of  separate  spiritN, 
or  whether  they  enter  immediately  into  glory,  bccauM 
Boiils  have  returned  from  both  states  to  instruct  us ;  but 
w'  at  Protestant  ever  re-appeared  to  assure  us  that  his 
faith  had  saved  him  1" 

"  What  I  am  about  to  tell  you,"  said  Lord  Elverton, 
"  I  ought  perhaps  to  have  imparted  to  you  years  ago. 
Anna  died  a  Catholic !" 

"  How  a  Catholio  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Everard,  doubtful  of 
the  sense  in  which  this  was  to  be  received.  "That  title 
is  given  too  loosely  !" 

"  You  may  here  receive  it,"  said  his  Lordship,  "in  its 
full  and  true  sense.  Anna  abjured  the  errors  of  Pro- 
testantism three  weeks  before  her  death,  on  what  would 
have  been  her  death-bed,  had  not  the  false  strength  and 
spirits  attendant  on  consumption  raised  her  again  during 
three  deceptive  weeks,  full  of  apparent  life  to  the  last." 

?'  Why  did  I  not  hear  this  before  ?"  cried  Mr.  Everard, 
divided  between  joy  at  the  fact  and  anger  at  its  conceal 
ment.  "  Ah !  my  God !  Carrington,  with  all  your  love 
of  secresy,  why,  being  a  Catholic,  did  you  fear  to  own 
that  your  wife  had  died  one  1  Oh !  you  were  not  openly 
one  yourself.  Very  true.  And  your  daughter,  your  only 
child,  the  heiress  of  all  you  possessed,  had  to  believe  that 
icr  parents  were  Protestants,  and  to  protest  against  all 
they  held  sacred.  Does  she  now  know  the  truth  ?  Does 
that  bright  Geraldine  know  that  her  mother  died  • 
Catholic  1    No,  dba  dow  not  t    I  understand  it  all :  you 


Jli 


_4 


ROUI   AND  TM   ADBIT. 


299 


^•vo  let  too  many  years  glide  by— you  have  missed  too 
many  graceful  opportunities,  you  moral  coward !" 

"  Everard,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  many  things— per- 
haps  everything— may  be  forgiven  a  dying  man.  I 
therefore  forgive  you  that  last  most  offensive  epithet. 
You  had  to  endure  much  pain  from  me  in  early  life,  anr' 
I  accept  that  pain  returned  to  me  in  my  old  age." 

"  And  your  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Everard.  "  Why  all 
that  hidden  policy  ?  Why  did  you  oblijr*^  hor  to  renounce 
her  first  and  only  real  love,  because  a  foreigner  and  a 
Catholic  might  not  aspire  to  the  heiress  of  Elverton 
Munor,  and  next  presumptive  claimant  to  the  dormant 
Barony  ;  a..'  then,  by  secretly  marrying  that  foreigner's 
sister,  undermine  the  ground  beneath  her  feet,  by  giving 
an  heir  to  supplant  her  ?  Why  did  she  not  know  of  these 
events,  so  important  to  you  all  1" 

"  Geraidine  l«new  of  these  events,"  eaid  his  Lordship, 
"just  when  they  could  cause  her  no  pain.  She  had  al- 
ready  renounced  all  worldly  possessions  in  desire,  before 
she  was  informed  that  they  were  he's  no  longer.  Cmld 
she  have  lost  them  at  a  better  time  1  You  reproach  me 
with  having  refused  her  to  Don  Carlos,  and  given  her  to 
De  Grey,  but  you  ought  to  look  on  me  as  having  been 
the  mere  instrument  of  Divine  Providence,  in  keeping 
»wo  souls  apart  who  had  each  great  destinies  to  fulfil  in 
the  eternal  counsels.  They  might  have  become  each 
other's  idols— they  will  now  become  great  Saints." 

"  Lord  Elverton,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "  you  are  a  clever 
man,  and  a  diplomatist  as  well  as  a  soldier;  but  you 
cannot  deceive  me  by  this  sophistry.  Well  do  I  know 
that  you  were  the  instrument  for  all  you  have  mentioned. 
Well  do  I  know  Uiat  God  oti  over-rule  evil  fur  good— 


soo 


ROMR    AND  THE    ABBET. 


but  that  is  not  to  prevent  you  from  feeling  soitow  for  the 
evil  of  selfish  duplicity  towards  her  and  towards  Don 
Carlos.  Why  did  you  lead  her  to  suppose  herself  neg- 
lected and  forgotten  by  him,  just  at  the  time  when,  being 
already  in  Italy — ^your  second  wife  privately  here  also— 
and  the  appointment  arriving  to  the  Ionian  Isles,  you 
wished  to  proceed  to  your  post,  and  merely  informed 
Geraldine  that  circumstances  over  which  you  had  ho  con- 
trol would  prevent  your  taking  her  with  you.  What  was 
to  become  of  a  young  woman,  not  four-and  twenty,  who 
at  that  time  had  received  no  call  to  a  religious  life  "i  Of 
course  she  accepted  him  whom  y«»a  hod  privately  sent  for 
— she  accepted  Eustace  de  Grey ;  but  she  had  not  a  heart  to 
give  him.  This  I  saw  during  the  short  four  years  of  their 
union ;  and  I  saw  that  he  also  p<;rceived  and  felt  it." 

"And  if  so,"  said  Lord  Elverton, — "if  De  Grey,  in 
marrying  a  destined  spouse  of  Heaven,  found  duty  and 
chaste  affection,  and  mental  and  spiritual  congeniality, 
together  with  the  satisfaction  of  having  been  the  ac- 
cepted suitor,  and  of  uniting  two  ancient  families  long 
bound  in  friendship,  was  not  that  sufficient  happiness  for 
Miy  man  1" 

"I  think  not,"  said  Mr.  Everard.  "De  Grey  was 
often  wounded,  and  I  for  him,  for  I  loved  him  very  muoh." 

"  Everard,"  said  his  Lordship,  at  length  smiling, "  you 
•re  happily  going  amongst  the  spirits  of  the  just  mode 
perfect,  where  your  over-sensitive  feelings  will  be  tried 
DO  more.  You  will  there  understand  that  pure  love 
which  is  without  passion,  and  will  also  unravel  the  mjs> 
terious  skein  of  life." 

"  Oh,  thou  man  of  theory !"  cried  Mr.  Everard ;  "  thou 
man  twice  married  to  th«  earth's  best  specimens  pf 


"g,"you 


BOia  AND  Tax   ABBKT. 


801 


Beauty,  to  be  preaching  to  me,  a  single  man  of  inipeacbi 
able  morals,  about  a  passionless  and  angelical  life !" 

"  I  am  not  preaching  to  you,"  said  Lord  Elverton,  "  I 
am  but  defending  the  designs  of  God  on  the  heart  of  my 
daughter,  and  assuring  you  that  I  am  quite  contented  to 
ha  we  been  His  instrument.  If  I  have  to  recal  and  be- 
wail any  imperfection  of  motive,  that,  my  good  Sir,  be- 
longs to  the  confessional." 

"  Well,  'well !"  said  Mr.  Everard,  holding  out  his  hand, 
vrhich  Lord  Elverton  took  with  real  warmth,  "  I  die  in 
peace  with  all  the  world,  and  more  than  in  peace  with 
you.  General :  you  know  m^  heart!  Now  I  wi'.l  dwell  only 
on  the  joy  tbat  our  Anna-Maria  has  gone  on  the  ancient 
road,  the  well-trod,  the  safe,  the  sacred  road  to  Heaven !" 

"  And  with  these  happier  thoughts  I  will  leave  you," 
■aid  his  Lordship ;  "  for  you  have  been,  of  course,  more 
agitated  by  our  conversation  than  your  weak  state  can 
well  bear — ^yet,  I  hope  no  harm  has  been  done."  And 
he  opened  the  door  of  communication  between  the  sick- 
room and  that  in  which  sat  the  faithful  Mrs.  Moss, 
stirring  a  restorative  to  be  administered  the  instant  she 
were  allowed  the  opportunity.  "  Ha !— come  in,  Moss. 
Come  jere,"  said  Mr.  Everard.  "  It  is  well,  after  the 
excitement  of  subjects  that  bristle  al)  my  nerves,  to  re> 
pose  on  those  of  a  soothing  and  sedative  natur^-^ 

Tbrn  are  w  vantwii  Memo  in  Cornwall  aloMi 
B}'  r;v!iletr  nourished,  and  iheltered  bjr  itona ; 
But  none  that  I've  heard  of,  and  none  I  can  lee, 
Majr  eompen  with  the  evergreen  Mon  of  Bumleigh ! 

"He  will  sleep  iifter  this,  I  hc'  \"  whispered  hit 
I<ordj>kip,  smiling ;  and  oi'.  Mrs.  M  %  .'.  assurance  of  the 
eflect  tC'  be  expected,  Lord  Elverton  \c4i  the  aiok-ropia 
at  his  friend. 


109 


ROIIB  ANR  TFOC   ADBn. 


CHAPTER  XXVffl. 


Ai  in  the  Mrly  morn,  tram  mountain  Tale, 
The  dewr  miati  obKore  the  lunny  faelfhlf  i 

■o  in  thii  lower  world  our  eSbrta  fail 
To  eatch  the  whole  of  Ueaven'i  myiterioiu  Uckti 

Mr.  Evkrard  did  sleep  several  hovirs,  »n(l  >iiwoke  in  • 
calm  but  very  exhausted  state.  His  Rf'  yon  "vl  Confossor 
came  to  see  him,  and  advised  that  be  should  receive  the 
holy  Viaticum  that  very  evening.  Ti.3  Reverend  Father 
then  closed  the  door  on  himself  and  his  penitent,  and  Mrs. 
Moss  went  to  acquaint  Lilia,  the  cherished  object  of  Mr. 
Everard's  aflfection,  that  his  d«ith  was  near.  Both  Lilia 
and  Lucy  were  to  be  present  at  the  sacred  rite  of  that 
evening ;  and  notwithstandirtg  Mrs.  Moss's  fears  that  it 
would  make  the  sick  man  very  nervous,  a  temporary 
altar,  with  a  crucifix,  lights,  and  sacred  ornaments  were 
brought  in  by  the  pious  master  of  the  house  and  his 
servants,  as  a  matter  not  of  choice,  but  of  obligation.  He 
also  went  round  to  every  inmate  to  give  notice  that  the 
hidden  Saviour  would  bo  borne  up  the  great  stwrs  at  rue 
••  Ave  Maria ;"   and   accordingly,  as  the  wam5%'  )/eU 


,^^ 


il'.-'tiV- 


■oundcd,  so  was  every  door  thrown  open,  and  eo 
bitant  with  lighted  taper  knelt  in  adoration  on  the  thrc* 
hold.  The  usual  canopy  of  white  silk  was  carried  by  a 
pious  confraternity,  bound  to  accompany  the  most  holy 
Baorament  to  the  dying ;  and  the  paridi  priest  was  the 
administrator,  attended  ly  two  acolytes.    The  dyinr; 


upniiiiiiinpifflnini 


KOm  AKD  TBI  ABBKT. 


S0« 


BMn  w&<  much  afiected,  and  although  he  had  recognised 
every  beloved  person  near  him  he  did  not  speak ;  but 
after  receiving  Him  as  his  guide  and  support  on  the  road 
to  Heavtn,  who  was  to  form  there  his  everlasting  felicity, 
ho  closed  his  eyes,  and  all  quietly  withdrew. 

The  next  day  he  rallied,  and  entertained  himself  and 
Mrs.  Moss  with  conjectures  and  comments  on  his  imme- 
Liittely-expected  journey  mto  the  next  world.  "  Highly 
interesting,"' said  he— partly  soliloquizing,  partly  ad< 
dressing  his  companion — ^  highly  interesting  to  set  out 
from  Rome,  and  still  more  interesting  to  meet  God  face 
to  fiuse  in  this  very  room  in  Rome,  here,  as  I  lie — ^within 
u  few  hours — ^and  to  receive  in  this  first  interview  my 
personal  acceptance,  as  I  humbly  trust.  I  shall  see  Him 
in  Hid  sacred  humanity  as  on  Mount  Thabor,  I  conclude, 
and  being  out  of  the  body  shall  be  better  able  to  bear 
the  efiiilgence  of  His  glory  than  did  Saint  Peter. 
Highly  interesting ! — Moss  I' 

"Here  I  am,  Sir!" 

**  Yes,  of  that  I  am  sure.  Moss.  Take  care  that  you 
have  not  to  say,  as  Cardinal  Wolsey  said  of  himself  and 
the  king,  'Would  that  I  had  sened  my  Grod  with  half 
the  zeal,  &c.'  Moss,  I  am  now  as  dear  in  my  reasoning 
Acuities  as  ever  I  was  in  my  life,  and  I  have  a  notion 
that  bO  it  will  be  to  the  last  moment ;  but  the  manifebUw 
tion  may  be  impeded  by  the  weakness  of  the  body ;  and 
it  is  a  very  remarkable  phenomenon  that,  just  when 
these  two  old  friends,  who  have  loved  and  quarrelled 
rU  their  lives,  like  myself  and  the  General— just  when 
tiiey  are  going  to  part  for  so  long  a  time,  the^y  should 
bodi  become  to  stupid  and  uadeac.** 


"""•"^ 


104 


BOMB  AMD  mx  ABBKT, 


"  They  are  very  sorry  to  part,  Sir ;  and  when  one  I'* 
filled  with  sorrow  one  has  no  heart  to  be  clever,"  sigbtsd 
poor  Mrs.  Moss. 

"  That  the  body  should  cling  to  the  soul  I  can  conceive," 
continued  Mr.  Everard ;  "  for  ill,-  perhaps,  as  the  soul 
may  ha\e  treated  it,  yet  the  prospect  for  the  deserted 
body  until  the  general  resurrection  is  but  a  dreary  one  :— 
first,  there  is  a  humid  incrustation ;  then  there  rises  a 
mouldy  surfiice  ;  from  the  mould  is  bred  the  worms ; 
they,  whon  they  have  no  more  to  feed  on,  die,  and  all 
«rumble8  to  dust ;  therefore  the  beautifully-organized  and 
pleasure-loving  body  may  well  struggle  in  desperatioK ; 
but  tliat  the  soul ! — Who  is  there  at  the  door  1  Let  him 
in,  Moss — ^I  will  receive  souls  in  their  bodies  as  long  aa 
I  can." 

It  was  the  Reverend  Confessor,  who  himself  possessed 
as  original  a  stamp  of  mind  as  his  penitent.  "  Well ! 
what  of  the  soul  T  said  he,  smiling. 

"  Why,  tbat  the  soul,"  continued  Mr.  Everard,  "  can  so 
for  grieve  to  leave  the  body,  as  to  lie  hidden  within  it 
just  before  death  in  that  ignoble  manner,  is  a  curious  fact^ 
which  has  always  interested  me ;  and  now  I  have  a  per- 
sonal right  to  dive  more  into  the  matter :  yet  it  elude« 
me  1  I  can  neither  philosophically  nor  practically  disoo- 
▼er  why,  at  the  very  time  when  the  soul  is  about  to 
•prhig  gloriously  from  the  corrupt  trammels  of  the  body, 
■he  should  apparently  sink,  imprisoned  and  subdued. 
Here  is  the  mind,  the  soul,  the  spirit  of  Theobald  Evfr 
.-ard,  just  about  to  have  a  private  interview  with  the 
Creator  of  Heaven  and  earth;  and  yet,  fiir  from  being 
more  immediately  fit,  by  tublime  thoughts,  ardent 


nOHK 


TBS    ABBXT. 


Wtk 


bien  one  ii 
»r,"  sigbtid 

conceive," 
I  the  soul 
B  deserted 
kry  one  :— 
re  rises  a 
e  worms ; 
lie,  and  all 
anized  and 
speratioK ; 
Let  him 
as  long  aa 


.    "Well! 

rd, "  can  BO 
n  within  it 
surious  fact, 
have  a  per* 
i  it  elude* 
cally  disoo* 
B  about  to 
}f  the  body, 
i  subdued, 
obald  Ev^ 
vr  with  the 
from  being 
urdent  «qp)> 


nt»m8,  and  heroic  abnegations,  here  he  is  spending  bit* 
last  hours,  partly  in  d|>zn)g,  partly  in  thinking — if  such 
deserve  the  name  of  thpught — ^what  Moss  has*  got  fur 
him  in  that  blue  cup !  Well,  Sir !  what  have  you  to 
say  to  this?" 

••  Why,"  replied  the  Reverend  Father,  "  that  it  is  a 
very  good  humiliation!  for  year  intellectual  pride,  to  find 
whitt  a  poor  figure  fou  cut  at  the  last!  Death  is  a 
punishment^  and  you  jwish  to  find  in  it  only  more  food  for 
vanity.  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  that  Christ  haa 
destroyed ;  so  you  have  a  stingless  death ;  but  still  you 
must  accept  it,  with  ^1  its  humiliating  circumstances,  aa 
a  temporal  punishnient  justly  due  to  your  sins.  You 
desire,  it  sebms,  toj  offer  up  the  sacrifice  of  life  as  a 
homage  and  adoration  which  you  owe  the  divine  Majesty 
of  God ;  but  you  must  further  accept  the  more  difiiculc 
part  of  self-annihilation  before  Him.  There  have  been 
some  of  these  triumphant  deaths  of  intellectual  pride :, 
there  have  been  some  of  these  triumphant  deaths  of 
spiritual  pride.  Of  such  triumphs  beware !  for  the  soum 
of  those  heroes  are  buried  in  hell !  Humble  yourself 
rather  that  you  are  not  dying  the  truly  triumphant  death 
of  a  martyr  or  tried  confessor  of  the  faith :  that  you 
htfvo  come  into  the  fold  but  at  the  eleventh  hour,  and 
then — having  accepted-  your  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  with  att 
Bin  conditions,  haying  reconciled  and  prepared  your 
Boul  by  His  sacraments — rest  humbly  in  peace,  and 
never  mind,  or  rather  rejoice  in  being  humbled  by  the 
dozing  and  the  ''tilne  oupV 

•Ah!"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "so  I  will:  and  tber« 
waa  Bomething  I  wished  which  I  will  mentioa  now.    It  ia 


m 


806 


ROHI  ARD  XHl^  iJIBIT.' 


this  I—I  have  a  great  persuasion  that  I  shall  manifest  my 
reason  to  the  last :  retain  it  I  musi,  as  the  understanding 
finrms  part  of  the  soul.  But  I  may  be  deceived  in  this. 
Perhaps  I  shall  drivel  like  an  idiot,  or  shatter  like  a 
madman ;  and  i  wish,  if  that  be  the  case,  that  some  one 
may  constantly  pray  for  me.  I  know  that  there  are 
pious  Confraternities  in  Rome  dei<(ked  to  prayers  for  the 
dying,  and  I  should  like  them  to  be  engaged  from  this 
evening,  if  you  can  suggest  who  are  to  be  my  intCN 
oessorsf 

**  Yes,"  said  the  Reverend  Fatheil  "  I  can  suggest  to 
you  the  sons  of  Saint  Camillus  of  L^Uis,  well  known  to 
you,  doubtless,  in  the  streets  of  Rome  by  their  crimson 
cross  on  the  breast  and  shoulder.  They  are  termed  the 
Ministers  of  the  Sick  (Ministri  degli  Infermi),  whose 
principal  church  is  that  of  Saint  Mai'y  Magdalen.  You 
have  only  to  make  your  wish  known  to  the  good  master 
of  the  house,  and  he  will  arrange  everything  for  you  im» 
mediately.  But  surely  you  do  not  wish  th"  intention  of 
their  prayers  to  be  that  you  may  keep  up  a  dignified  ap« 
pearance  to  the  last?  Far  better  that  you  should 
'  drivel '  or  '  diatter,'  if,  conscious  that  you  were  so 
doing,  you  accepted  the  humiliation.  I  cannot  perceive 
that  you  have  been  much  flattered  during  your  life  by 
the  incense  offered  to  your  wit  and  learning ;  and  there* 
fore  I  the  more  exhort  you  to .  forget,  during  the  few 
hours  you  have  to  live,  that  the  universe  contains  any 
one  but  God  and  your  own  soul.  Th^se  good  ministers 
of  the  sick  will  not  pray,  that  to  the  last  moment  you 
may  enjoy  the  literary  and  philosophioa!  reputation  you 
may  have  amongst  your  friends ;  but  they  will  doubUesi 


.A. 


BOm  A5I>  TBS 


pray  for  you,  as  they  may  just  have  done  by  th«»  death- 
bed of  some  poor  artisan,  that  you  may  feel  all  your 
own  sin,  weakness,  and  misery,  depending  solely  on  the 
grace  and  memy  of  God." 
.  "In  a  codicil  to  my  will,"  said  Mr.  Everard,  "I  have 
left  enough  to  defray  the  expense  of  offering  frequently 
the  Holy  Sacrifice  for  my  soul  after  death,  and  of  r&- 
warding  the  priests  who  do  so.  '  The  labourer  is  wor- 
thy of  his  hire.'  A  sum  is  left  to  priests  in  Rome,  and 
also  to  the  priests  at  Bumleigh,  in  England,  to  whom  I 
have  been  a  tolerably  good  bene&ctor.  If  they  do  not 
piray  me  soon  out  of  purgatory,  I  shall  get  leave  to  ram- 
ble a  little  about  my  old,  long-firequented  chapel,  and  per- 
haps serve  Mass  for  the  priest  who  neglects  me,  and  give 
him  a  start !" 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  in  confession  to  the  priest 
who  is  with  you  now  ?"  inquired  the  Reverend  Father, 
amiling. 

Mr.  Everard,  after  a  little  pause,  replied,  "  It  is  true 
this  may  be  my  last  opportunity ;  for  I  feel  there  is  but 
little  life  left  in  me.  I  cannot  receive  the  holy  Viaticum 
again  under  ten  days,  and  before  that  time  I  shall  see 
Him  unveiled  who  deigned  to  visit  me  yesterday.  Yet 
I  have  a  great  preparatory  blessing  still  in  store — ^there 
is  Extreme  Unction !  And  this  last  sacrament,  which  is 
at  cnce  the  crowning  act  of  Penance  and  of  Church  In- 
dulgence, remitting  venial  sins  forgotten  or  unicnown, 
supplying  for  defective  contrition  in  confession  of  mortal 
sins,  and  destroying  the  very  roots  of  evil — this  I  had 
believed  sufficient,  after  holy  Viaticum,  without  any  more 
•onfcssion  ]" 


^^^^1^^ 


^am 


wm 


■i 


w 


808 


ROME   AND   mC   ABBXT.. 


"It  is  svifficient,"  replied  the  Reverend  Omfesftnr, 
Then,  laying  his  hand  on  Mr.  Everard'a  pulse,  he  saici, 
after  a  few  instants,  "  when  do  you  expect  the  ntediciU 
man  again  1" 

Mrs.  Moss,  looking  at  the  watch,  replied,  "  Within  an 
nour." 

"Then,  I  think,"  said  the  Reverend  Father,  "that  he 
will  authorize  your  receiving  that  holy  rite  in  the  course 
of  to-morrow.  Do  not  foil,"  addressing  Mrs.  Moss,  "  to 
..-uggest  this  to  him ;  for  doctors  seldom  propose  any  s» 
crament." 

"I  will  do  so.  Reverend  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Moss; 
"  but  we  are  very  'ritunate  in  our  medical  gentleman. 
Dr.  Granada  is  next  to  a  priest  in  the  case  of  the  soul,  as 
well  as  being  so  skilful  for  the  body." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Reverend  Confessor;  "I  will 
row  give  our  sick  friend  the  blessing,  and  will  then  leave 
him,  recommending  to  him  first  the  '  blue  cup,'  and  then 
the  '  dozing.' " 

After  the  departure  of  the  Jesuit  Father,  Mr.  Everard, 
having  quaffed  of  the  prepared  beverage,  said,  "Mrvs<t, 
have  you  any  good  news  for  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  replied  she ;  "  Lady  de  Grey  and  the  other 
Nun  arrived  from  Albano  half  an  hour  ago,  while  the 
Reverend  Father  was  talking ;  so  I  stepped  out  to  them, 
and  after  some  questions  and  answers,  it  was  settled  they 
should  come  to  you  after  your  deep." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he ;  "I  will  accept  the  artificial  ro. 
pose  to  be  given  roe,  and  then  I  will  see  and  speak  onoe 
more  with  the  daughter  of  Anna-Maria— with  the,  peiw 
baps,  equally  loved  Geraldine.    TeU  her  to  «xune  to  me 


"I  wiU 


BblB  AND  THI  ABSXr.  89t 

llone ;  to  come  to  me  as  a  Sister  cS  Mercy,  in  her  littie 
bonnet ;  and  to  bring  something  to  the  sick  man  in  her 
Btriiw  basket.    Ah,  may  God  bless  her !" 

Here  followed  a  gush  of  tears,  during  which  Mrs.  ll^Ma, 
colliding  in  the  soporific  given,  darkened  the  room,  and 
had  soon  the  comfbrt  of  ascertaining  that  her  patient  wa« 
peacefully  asleep.  When  the  mescal  friend  arrived  he 
would  not  permit  his  patient  to  be  disturbed.  He  en> 
tered  the  room,  felt  the  pnlse,  and,  when  his  eyes  became 
accustomed  to  the  obscurity,  observed  the  countenance 
of  the  sleeper.  Then,  after  listenuig  to  the  wish  of  the 
Confessor,  and  the  details  of  Mrs.  Moss,  through  theme> 
dium  of  Donna  Candida,  Dr.  Granada  gave  his  opinion 
that  the  sacrament  of  the  last  Anointing  should  be  ad- 
ministered early  in  the  following  day. 

When  Mr.  Everard  awoke,  he  sent  for  Ms  expected 
visitor;  and  while  Sister  Agnes  remained  with  Mrs. 
Moss  in  the  outer  room,  Geraldine  advanced  alone  to 
the  death-bed  of  her  faithAiI  and  paternal  friend.  **  Ha  !** 
eried  he,  "  here  you  are,  just  as  you  prophesied  some 
jears  ago,  to  visit  me  on  my  dying  bed !  Little  did  ei* 
ihar  of  us  think  that  it  would  be  in  Rome !  And  now  I 
have  the  best  news  to  tell  you,  dearest  girl !  Y«u  whom 
I  loved  before  you  saw  the  light ; — ^you,  who  are  to  dosw 
my  eyes  in  death ;  child  of  my  only  lov^-^my  Anni^ 
MAria — listen ! — ahe  died  a  Catholic  T 

"Yes,"  replied  the  daughter,  ''all  glory  and  pn^ 
itid  thainksgiving  be  to  our  God  for  ever!" 

"Yes!"  edioed  Mr.  Everard,  surprised;  "yoQ  Wf 
ye«.*    Did  you  know  it  thenr 

"I  have  HailcA  her  tomb,"  nid  Genldiae;  "and  m 


iiio 


ROHK   AND  TBI   ABBIT. 


•very  uetaQ  is  interesting  to  us  both,  I  will  relate  M 
mr  H  a»  your  weak  state  can  bear.*' 

"  Her  tomb !"  cried  Mr.  Everard ;  "  why,  her  monn* 
ment  is  in  the  Protestant  burial-ground." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Gcraldine ;  "  but  that  pretty  classical 
eolumn  never  dared  boast  that  it  covered  her  remains. 
They  lie  in  the  little  solitary  church  of  Galora." 

*'  Galora !"  cried  he.  "  I  know  that  isolated  church 
beyond  the  town,  aiid  amid  the  rich  woods  of  Laricciit— 
once  a  Benedictine,  and  now  a  Jesuit  station.  Is  it  there  ? 
Tell  me  all !— The  last  I  heard  of  you  from  Lady  Elver, 
ton  was,  that  you  had  promised  to  assist  at  the  death-bed 
of  the  Countess  G.,  at  Lariccia ;  that  the  afflicted  sons 
came  at  *  Ave  Maria'  to  fetch  you  from  Albano — that 
you  were  accompanied  by  two  Missionary  Fathers  of  the 
Precious  Blood,  and  one  of  their  Religious  Sisters ;  that 
you  were  all  unavoidably  detained,  and  at  last  obliged  to 
go  in  an  open  vehicle,  though  by  the  most  splendid  moon- 
light, and  through  a  mile  of  scenery  which  in  its  way  can- 
not be  surpassed,  you  four  Religious  inside,  and  the  two 
young  Counts  on  the  box  with  the  driver — ^they  weeping, 
and  you  four  uniting  aloud  in  litanies  and  prayers ;  so 
that  you«rere  insensible  to  the  beauties  around  you.  I 
also  heard  how  much  you  were  touched  and  edified  by 
the  filial  piety  of  the  sons  towards  both  their  parents  ;- 
that  you  were  at  the  last  aided  by  a  perfect  Brother  of 
Mercy  in  Baron  B.,  and  that  the  Countess  herself  died  aa 
she  had  lived,  an  example  of  Christian  &ith,  hop<>,  and 
love,  having  been  &voured  by  some  striking  and  super 
natural  proofs  of  God's  predilection  for  her.  How  won- 
4erful  that  thus  you  should  have  known  Galora!" 

**  Yea,"  said  she  j  "  it  is  wonderful  as  consoling.    On 


so 


V 


mourn  AND  THK   ABBKT. 


ait 


Ike  morning  of  the  second  day  after  our  arrival  iu  Lario* 
eia,  it  lieing  Sunday,  vre  found,  from  the  Jesuit  Father  of 
Oalora,  vho  hod  come  at  day-brealc  to  ascertain  the  state 
of  our  dying  fUend,  that  we  could  be  very  well  spared 
by  the  exempUry  lady  who  was  chief  nurse,  and  that  if 
we  would  accompany  him  back  to  his  church,  he  would 
immediately  hear  our  confessions,  say  Moss,  and  give  ua 
holy  Communion.  We  thankfully  accppted  his  propu 
aal,  and  followed  his  footsteps  at  a  short  distance,  through 
•  half  mile  of  wild  and  lovely  scenery,  in  the  refreshing 
ooolness  of  that  early  September  morning.  After  Mws 
we  remained  also  for  Benediction;  and  then,  full  of 
thankfulness  for  the  blessing  both  to  soul  and  body,  in 
this  unexpected  walk  to  Galora,  I  went  round  the  freshly 
beautified  church,  where  the  Countess  G.  was  to  be  in- 
terred, and  in  a  private  comer,  by  a  side  altar,  read  on  a 
small  slab  let  'nto  the  pavement,  the  simple  words,  *  An- 
na Maria. — R.LP.'*  I  looked  with  interest  at  the  name 
to  which  so  many  thoughts  and  feelings  are  attached,  and 
then  observing  the  date,  a  sudden  emotion  filled  lay 
heart,  which  began  to  beat  violently.  I  knelt  by  the  slab^ 
and  as  I  recalled  circumstance  after  circumstance  attehd 
ing  my  Mother's  death,  I  began  to  admit  the  possibility, 
then  the  hope  that  the  name  and  date  were  not  merely  % 
ooincidence ;  and  I  begged  permission,  which  was  granted 
too,  to  see  the  registrar  of  interments  in  the  vaultH. 
There  I  found  the  fiict,  the  blessed  fact,  that  my  Modiar, 
having  died  a  Catholic,  and  her  precious  soul  having  aa^ 
cended  to  Him  she  had  ever  supremely  loved,  her  eartk 
\f  Kotaina  were  laid  in  the  consecrated  vault  of  Galora.** 


i 


•It 


KaMI   AND  TRI   ABMR; 


C!HAFi:£R  XXDt. 

IMI  m*  aotor  MM  diMM. 

Or  of  flotioB'i  |iow«r  i 
Mom  of  thwM  I  dow  mtmm, 

LUm  th«  dylag  Mur ! 

Chi  the  following  day,  towards  evening,  the 
of  Eirtreme  Unction  was  administered  to  the  dying  mao, 
who  retained  the  perfect  use  of  his  senses  and  his  speech. 
He  perceived  with  affectionate  emotion,  that  all  thoae  he 
loved  in  Rome  surrounded  him ;  and  from  time  to  time, 
especially  while  they  were  awaiting  the  arrival  of  tiie 
parish  priest,  gave  forth  his  wonted  speculations  and 
comments  on  his  own  situation  '  prospects.  "  Were  I 
ten  j'ears  younger,"  said  he,  %ht  pro6t  by  the  new 

lease  of  life  so  often  bestoweu . .  ^  indeed,  as  the  sudden 
recovery  after  Extreme  Unction  is  miraculous,  I  do  not 
see  why  a  man  of  seventy  may  not  equally  as  the  man  cf 
sixty  be  the  object.  But  the  Aimighty  seldom  works 
miracles  contrary  to  His  own  declarations.  Seventy  years 
is  the  assigned  age  of  man,  m  which  to  labour  and  suffer ; 
and  all  eternity  is  given  to  repose  and  joy.  Oh,  what  a 
short  span  is  life !  how  senseless  the  murmuring  at  its 
evil*!  how  senseless  the  exulting  at  its  plaudits  and  swv 
eess.    God  be  mwciful  to  roe,  a  annerT 

Here  Mr.  Everard  closed  his  eyes,  and  all  remised  in 
reepeetfol  silence;  but  in  a  few  instants  he  called  out, 
"Moss!" 


I    mm  i.Mpniii  n 


dying  man, 
i  his  speech, 
all  those  h» 
me  to  time, 
rival  of  die 
ilations  and 
"Were  I 

by  the  new 
I  the  sudden 
lis,  I  do  not 
I  the  man  cf 
Idom  works 
sventy  years 

and  suffer ; 

Oh,  what  a 
luring  at  its 
lits  and  soo- 

remained  in 
toalled  out, 


BOm   AND  TBI   ABBXT. 


•II 


••  Here  I  am,  L''r,'  was  the  reply. 
"  M088,  I  will  not  be  iilligrced  out,  when  I  am  dead, 
srith  buttons  and  tassels,  and  badges  of  a  C!onfratemity ; 
or  put  into  some  third  Order,  to  which,  when  alive,  I  have 
never  belonged.  All  this  may  piously  amuse  the  last 
moments  of  some  better  souls ;  but  it  does  not  attract  me 
to  be  lying  peeping  out  of  a  hood.  I  have  to  give  an 
account  to  Qod  of  how  I  have  conducted  myself  in  my 
brown  or  blue  coat  as  a  private  country  gentleman  of 
England,  and  so  will  I  be  buried,  in  the  Cemetery  of 
Saint  Laurence  the  Martyr."  He  then  added,  "  Glorious 
Martyr !  whose  few  words  have  been  justly  recorded  by 
the  Church,  while  my  much  and  vain-glorious  talk  will 
be  as  justly  cast  into  oblivion.  Glorious  Martyr!  who 
was  deemed  worthy  to  sniFer  on  a  slow  fire ;  while  I  am 
cushioned  round  about  in  pity  to  my  weakness !  Won- 
derful and  interesting  the  subordinate  degrees  of  grace 
conferred,  even  on  equally  &ithftil  souls.  I  shall  soon 
know  all.    I  shall  know  even  as  I  am  known." 

The  parish  priests  and  attendants  here  entered,  and  the 
■sored  rite  of  the  last  Anointing  commenced.  Mr. 
Everard  reoei>?d  it  with  fervent  gratitude,  joining  in  the 
responses,  and  oocHsionally  uttering,  in  Latin  or  English, 
his  admiration  at  the  selection  and  composition  of  the 
prayers ;  then  receiving  in  joyful  silence  the  Benediction, 
he  dosed  his  eyes,  and  all  quietly  withdrew  from  the 
room,  but  his  immediate  and  faithful  attendants,  Mrs. 
Moss  and  Lucy.  Tlie  latter  remained  to  be  the  medium . 
of  communication  between  Mrs.  Moss  and  those  in  the 
House  who  had  promised  to  be  present  when  the  aout 
should  leave  the  body.  In  a  short  time  two  of  the 
14- 


i* 


»^mjim:i»m^m'»iim'm^i9iti.k.<**i'>v>'-a'iii:i'-^^->^t~-''^ 


S14 


KOm   AHD  THB  ABBBT. 


•Ministers;  of  the  Infinn"  qidotlj  entered,  awl,  at  • 
further  end  of  the  room,  commenced  the  reqncsstcd 
prayers,  being  relieved  every  two  bo^rs  by  others  of  their 
Order,     Mr.  Everard,  without  «^nmg  Ms  eyes,  smiled 
bis  consciouwiess  of  their  presence,  and  said,  about  nine 
o'clock  at  nigl>,t,  "  When  any  one  next  comes  into  the 
room,  who  can  speak  both  Ei^lisb  and  Italian,  let  them 
tell  those  good  Fathers  to  engage  the  powerful  arm  o 
Saint  Michael  the  Archangel  against  that  miscreant  Lucifer 
and  Ws  aubtle  tactics,  for  the  last  struggle  for  my  soul  is 
nigh  at  hand."    The  good  woman,  on  hearing  this,  sent 
Ijicy  instantly  to  fetch  Lady  deOrey  and  her  Religious 
lister,  with  Lilit;  and  they,  perceiving  as  they  softly 
entered  tixat  death  might  be  each  instant  expected,  de- 
spatched Lucy  a  second  time,  now  to  inform  the  two 
young  Sinclaiis,  who  were  awaiting  the  snmmons  in  Lord 
ElvertonV,  private  study.    His  Lordship  ascended  with 
them,  and  found  his  daughter  kneeling  on  oiie  aide  of  the 
pillow,  the  two  Religious  Priests  on  the  other,  and  Sister 
Agnes  and  Lilia  lighting  blewwd  candles  and  sprinkling 

holy  water. 

«  Ha!"  cried  the  dying  man,  "  tell  it  to  all— the  devil 
is  no  poetical  fiction— ^lo  mere  symbolical  term  for  evil- 
no  vapour  of  German  mysticism.    He  is  in  tius  very 

room!" 

This  was  repeated  to  the  senior  priest,  who  replied 
quietly,  "  Of  course  he  is,  but  what  care  we !"  Then 
dsing,  and  taking  the  holy  water  from  Sister  Agnes,  he 
sprinkled  it  more  fully  tver  and  around  the  dying  man, 
than  threw  the  whole  contents  of  the  saucer  into  one  part 
of  the  room,  repeating  ihe  Church  exorciums  agwnst  our 


'^iii-. 


BOHX  AKD   nut  ABBKT. 


S15 


arvl,  St  • 
requested 
ers  of  their 
res,  smiled 
about  nine 
»  into  the 
I,  let  them 
ful  arm  o 
«nt  Lucifer 
my  soul  is 
;  this,  sent 
r  Religious 
they  softly 


de-' 
m  the  two 
ons  in  Lord 
;ended  with 
I  (tide  of  the 
,  and  Sister 
i  sprinkling 

1 — ^the  devil 
tn  for  evil— 
in  titis  very 

who  replied 
re!"  Then 
r  Agnes,  he 
dying  man, 
ito  one  part 
I  agunst  our 


adversary  the  devil,  who  like  a  roaring  lion'  h^'  come 
to  seiie  and  devour  the  parting  aoul.  For  a  few  minutes 
the  dying  man  experienced  and  evidenced  the  uneasiness 
which  may  be  perceived,  more  or  less,  in  every  dying 
person  p^ist  the  age  of  childhood.  But  at  length  he 
■gain  spoke  distinctly,  though  more  feebly,  "  The  devil 
presents  Iiimself,  ta  give  me  my  last  choice  of  some  evil : 
tae  evil  of  preisumption,  the  evil  of  indifference,  or  the 
evil  of  despair.  But  he  cannot  outwardly  harm  the  dying 
Catholic  in  his  bed,  for  he  cannot  touch  what  the  Church 
has  blessed — ^he  cannot  touch  the  sacred  chrism,  nor  the 
holy  water,  nor  venture  within  the  radii  of  the  blessed 
candle.  And  for  the  soul — he  cannot  touch  her,  if  puri- 
fied froin  sin,  either  by  Baptismal  Grace  preserved,  or 
the  Grace  of  Penance  duly  received.  He  can  only 
&8ten  on  mortal  sin,  which,  dwelling  in  the  soul,  presents 
the  fatal  handle  hy  which  the  demon  grasps  and  secures 
her  for  ever.  Thanks  be  to  my  Divine  Redeemer,  m 
mortal  sin  dwells  in  me !" 

The  zealous  Religious  by  Mr.  Everard's  pillow  bent 
his  ear  *o  Lord  Elverton's  whispered  interpretation  of 
these  words,  with  which  he  appeared  much  pleased ;  and 
began,  with  his  companion,  to  invoke  the  angels,  arch 
angels,  and  all  the  heavenly  host,  to  guard  and  conduct 
the  soul.  Mr.  Everard  stUl  heard,  and  understood  per- 
fectly ;  and  whenever  he  appeared  inclined  to  speak  the 
Religious  Mfaiisters  of  the  Sick  paused,  and  all  eagerly 
bent  the  ear,  for  his  voice  was  now  very  weak,  and  his 
sight  appeared  impaired.  He  grasped,  and  often  kissed 
the  crucifix,  bkssed  f'r  the  hour  of  death  by  the  Pope 
•t  his  late  intervic  '^  ar '  also  one  of  the  biased  rosaries 


mmmtf*VSWiimtl0Ugm 


tie 


BOUB  AND  TSK   ABBKT. 


n ;;;;; 


fh 


1     I! 


irliich  he  Iiod  brought  from  Loretto,  uttering  beaitifbl 
Aspirations  of  faith,  contrition,  gratitude,  hope,  and  love, 
llien  he  said  louder,  and  with  efibrt,  "  If  it  be  granted 
to  me,  I '  "\  still  be  useful  to  you  all,  whom  I  love !" 
Then  after  another  pause,  he  said,  "  Geraldine,  have  ycu 
any  message  for  yc        other !" 

Hie  Religious  re^  ;d  in  a  low  but  distinct  voice, "  Tell 
her  that  my  prayers  for  her  precious  soul  have  never 
ceased — tell  her  of  my  joy  that  she  died  purified  and 
strengthened  by  all  the  Sacraments  of  the  Churclt— teli 
her  to  pray  constantly  for  my  spiritual  necessitieti." 

"  I  will,"  said  he :  then  added,  "  Do  not  wait  till  I  am 
quite  dead  to  close  my  eyes ;  close  them  while  I  am 
oonscious.  Hold  up  something  before  my  eyes."  Tlie 
Religious  held  up  a  small  crucifix,  telling  him  she  did  so. 
'*  I  cannot  see  it,"  said  he ;  "  close  my  eyes." 

The  Religious,  rising  and  bending  over  her  dying 
friend,  obeyed  his  wishes,  while  Lord  Elverton  explained 
to  the  astonished  EcclosiFstios  that  such  was  thb  dying 
men's  own  request.  Mr.  Everard  then  said,  "It  is 
MOthing,  and  full  of  hope,  to  hear  the  bells  of  Rome 
•ounding,  in  solemn  sweetness,  my  departing  knell !" 

Those  around  the  death-bed  looked  at  each  other,  and 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison,  who  had  just  entered  the 
room,  advanced,  bent  over  him,  and  said,  "  The  bells  you 
hear,  my  dear  Sir,  are  rung  by  angels.  Hie  demons  are 
dispersed — ^fear  them  no  more.  Prepare  now  to  meet 
your  God !  You  have  closed  your  eyes  on  all  earthly 
objects ;  let  your  ears  also  be  turned  from  earth.  Follow 
me  now  in  these  ejaculations,  with  your  heart,  if  not  with 
four  lips . — '  Now,  Lotd,  acoording  to  thy  good  wlH, 


^^^^^ 


BOU  ARD  TKB  ABBXT. 


Sl» 


Aow  mercy  to  me :  command  my  soul  to  be  received 
to  peace,  for  Thou  hast  redeemed  me,  O  God  of  trutU 
LOTd  Jesus,  let  those  sweet  words  sound  in  my  ears, 
This  day  thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise.'  Receive 
me,  my  crucified  Jesus,  into  thy  loving  arms,  which  for 
rae  were  stretched  forth  on  tlie  cross :  receive  me  into 
those  embraces  of  thy  infinite  charity,  and  draw  my  soul 
to  Thee:  receive  me,  O  Jesus,  in  thy  mercy—receive 
my  soul  in  peace." 

The  dying  man  followed  these  slowly  pronounced 
words  in  a  fiunt  voice ;  then  resting  on  the  precious  name 
of  *  salvation,'  he  uttered  it  three  times ;  then  spoke  no 
more ;  and  the  two  Religious  Ministers  of  the  Infirm 
commenced  the  Church  prayers  and  litanies  for  the  part- 
ing  soul,  during  which  Geraldine  and  Mr.  Terrison  ex- 
changed  looks,  and  she  softly  redosed  the  eyes,  which 
had  partially  opened  in  ^eath. 

In  the  evening  following  Mr.  Everard's  happy  transit, 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison  visited  the  Religious  ladies 
in  their  reception-room,  and  was  welcomed  with  more 
than  usual  eagerness  by  the  tearful  LUia,  who  began  now 
more  than  at  first  to  feel  her  great  bereavement ;  and  she 
also  had  some  questions  to  ask  on  that  all-engrossing 
subject  of  the  soul's  passage  from  time  to  eternity—"  to 
wnich,"  said  she,  «  Reverend  Mother  promised  to  endea. 
▼our  to  reply,  should  you  not  come  to  see  us,  either  to^ay 
or  to-morrow.    But,  thank  God !  Reverend  Sir,  here  you 
are  to  cheer  and  controle  us." 
«  And  what  are  thcbe  questions,  Sister  Lilia  1"  said  he 
"First,"  repUed  LUia,  "I  wish, to  know  whether  the' 
Oiuroh  considers  the  protection  of  the  angol  guardian  to 


iiw  >imiiii 


8^8 


sous   AND  THE  ABBXT. 


be  ihihifficient  daring  the  hours  of  darkjess,  and  in  *^ 
hour  of  death,  againsi  the  evil  spirit  and  his  legion  ?  And 
whether  it  yras  on  that  aucount  th<tt  the  senior  Priest  of 
Saint  Camillus  of  Lellis  dashed  the  holy  water  in  that 
'part  of  the  room  towards  which  dear  Mr.  Everard 
looked  so  anxiously.  The  guardian  angel  never  leaves 
a  snul,  except  when  deiilied  by  mortal  sin.  Why,  then, 
did  not  Mr.  Everard's  angel  drive  away  that  devil  1" 

"  Remember,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison,  "our  free  choice 
of  good  and  evil  to  the  last  moment  of  our  mortal  life, 
ttemember  that  Almighty  6od  permits  the  devil  to 
Approach  and  teinpt  us,  as  he  approached  and  tempted 
Sesiia  Ciaiat  our  Liord ;  and  reflect  that  as  the  guardian 
iiitgel  has  no  will  but  the  will  of  God,  so  he  also  permits 
the  approach  and  the  temptation  of  the  deviL" 

**  I  understand  this,"  said  Lilia,  "  and  I  can  also  under- 
stand that,  were  Satan  to  approach  as  an  angel  of  light, 
his  visible  appearance  would  be  a  temptation ;  but  it  was 
Certain  liitst  night  that  his  appeiurance  to  the  dying  person 
was  iio't  seductive,  but  terrific,  for  our  beloved  old  friend 
gksped  and  stared  with  horror,  till,  on  the  priest^s  throw- 
ing the  holy  water,  W  exclaimed  '  Thanks  be  to  God !' " 

"Your  brother  Frederick,"  sai^  Mr.  Terrison,  "has 
been  telliil^  tne  that,  previous  to  the  actual  appearance 
Jiat  so  alarmed  the  dying  man,  he  desired  prayers  against 
tlie  three  temptations  of  presumption,  indifference,  and 
despair.  These  two  first  spiritual  temptations  he  over- 
oanie,  and  the  appearance  of  the  evil  one  must  have  been 
bi  anger  and  revenge,  to  torment  him  by  terror  into  de- 
spair.   This  is  <  onstantly  the  case." 

"  j^ad  if,"  said  LiUk>  "  ths  devfl  came  in  rage  and  spite^ 


ROMS   AND  TBI  ABBBT. 


wh}  was  u  the  holy  w«ter,  and  dot  the  angel,  that  ijent 
hunaway}" 

"  We  oaanot  tell,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison,  "  how  oftea 
the  devil  may  have  uetn  ciiased  away  by  the  guardian 
angel,  because  theoonstant  protection  of  our  angels  is  in 
visible,  and  known  only  by  faith.  When  the  devil  be- 
came  visible  to  the  dying  peraoa,  the  priest  had  immo- 
diate  recourse  to  the  moans  which  the  Church  has  ap- 
pointed, bec&use  it  was  evident  God  then  intended  tha^ 
(he  adversary  sh<Hild  be  rejected  by  the  fvee  wall  of  man. 
When  we  throw  the  holy  water,  or  light  the  blessed  can- 
dle against. the  powers  of  darkness,  we  do  so  by  our  free 
will ;  and  those  sublime  and  prolonged  prayers  and  es- 
orcisms,  and  benedictions  given  to  the  holy  water,  whidi 
all  have  not  the  power  to  repeat,  nor  even  time,  in  mq- 
ments  of  distress  and  terror,  are  all  oonoentrated  and 
brought  to  bear  dgainst  our  enemy,  in  the  pure  element 
which  Qirist  first  saoramentalized  when  he  descended  in- 
to the  river  of  Jordan."  > 

**  And  now  tell  me,"  said  Lilis,  whether  in  the  last 
fltrfi^le  ^r  the  possession  of  a  soul,  the  devil  leads  on 
such  a  troop  of  &llen  angels  as  would  be  an  overmatch 
for  the  one  single  guardian  angel  without  the  aid  of  the 
arclmngel  Michael  ?'' 

"  We  might  say  that  it  would  be  impossible,"  replied 
Mr  Terrison,  "  for  even  the  whole  troop  of  hell  to  ovor- 
ootiie  one  single  angel  confirmed  in  grace,  because  the 
de\il  can  only  act  by  the  permission  of  God;  and  He 
who  snid  to  the  mighty  ocean,  'Thus  &r  shalt  thou 
oonie  and  no  further,  aril  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  bb 
■tiud,'  thus  restrains  the  evil  power  of  His  enemy,  a»4 


■■■i 


^■^^ 


"  WiW» 


MO 


ROilX   Ain>   THK   ABBET. 


pennits  not  that  his  faithful  angels  should  bo  worsted. 
We  are  warranted  in  believing  that  Satan  does  bring  hia 
whole  force  into  action  when  the  soul  leaves  the  bod^' ; 
but,  thanks  be  to  God !  we  also  know  that  he  and  all  his 
fiends  tremble  and  take  flight  before  their  conquerors, 
Saint  Michael  and  the  Heavenly  Host." 

"And  now  for  my  last  question,  and  the  one  which  in< 
teresta  me  so  much,"  said  Lilia.  "  Why  did  you  speak 
so  confidently.  Reverend  Sir,  to  the  dying  person  respect- 
ing  the  bells  he  heard,  and  which  he  mistook  for  the 
church  bells  of  Rome  1  Why  were  you  so  certain  that 
they  were  rung  by  angels  1  As  Satan  can  transform 
himself  into  an  angel  of  light,  can  he  not  imitate  holy 
sounds  V* 

"Yes,  he  can,"  replied  Mr.  Terrison,  "  and  I  can  tell 
you  some  histories  about  that  which  have  fUlen  under 
my  own  observation.  I  will  also  tell  you  some  day  why 
I  knew  that  the  sound  of  bells,  conveyed  to  the  ear  of 
Mr.  Everard  alone,  was  an  intimation  fh>m  angels  that 
the  devils  were  put  to  flight." 

"  Some  day !"  exclaimed  Lilia.  "  Why  not  to^lay, 
when  our  thoughts  and  feelings  are  more  especially  in 
the  unseen  world?  Why  not  to-day,  when  your  pre- 
sence and  conversation  are  such  a  solace  ?" 

"  We  shall  all  join  in  this  last  question,"  said  the  se- 
nior Religious,  "and  for  the  same  reason;  therefore  we 
hope  you  will  remain  here  to  have  your  tea ;  and  per- 
haps you  will  prevail  on  Mrs.  Moss  to  leave  the  honour- 
ed remains  of  our  friend  during  the  next  hour,  as  the  Re> 
Iigk}us  Confhttemity  are  in  exact  attendance  1" 

"  I  will  go  and  fetch  her,"  said  Mr  Terrison.    "I  will 


WM 


nom   AHD  TBI  ABBir. 


881 


jmt  her  on  her  obedience  to  come  and  sit  with  me  here  a 
little  while.  I  suppose  the  mention  of  a  '  cup  of  tea'  will 
arouse  some  fresh  grief;  but  she  has  a  good  strong  mind, 
and  is  quite  reconciled  to  her  bereavement,  which  she 
may  well  feel  is  the  great  gain  of  him  she  loved  better 
than  herself." 

"  And  may  I,  Reverend  Muthew,  fetch  Sister  Agnes  V* 
said  Lilia,  "to  hear  Mr.  Terrison's  histories  of  angelio 
beUsI" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  Religious,  "  not  only  Sister 
Agnes,  but  Lucy  may  be  present" 

In  ten  minutes  from  that  time  the  little  party  were  as. 
•embled  on  each  side  of  the  grating,  and  the  Revennd 
Ifr.  Terrisixi  thus  begao :— 


a^Mmmfmmmmm 


m 


•',.:.njs 


AND  THI   ABbiilr. 


CHAPTER  XXZ. 


'1 


^■" 


Th«  north  windi  howl. 

And  iplriti  Kiowl, 

And  phuMocM  tlM  ft«m  hoUi 

In  looa  nddnlght, 

A  &«tAiI  light, 

TiU  Mgeli  Mond  thtir  boU. 

*4  atvi  70U  dl  fair  notice,"  said  Mr.  Torrison,  "  that  I 
intend  to  elude  any  pioua  curiosity  respecting  perscnui 
and  localities  in  the  history  I  am  about  to  give  you,  be- 
cause, were !  to  mention  but  one  circumstance  that  would 
lead  you  (o  know  the  rest,  I  should  consider  it  a  breach 
of  confidence  towards  the  parties  concerned  in  ray  nar- 
rative. I  will,  therefore,  place  my  scene  in  North 
Wales,  where  it  did  not  occur,  and  now  begin  the  his- 
tory-." 

At  this  moment  a  tap  was  heard  at  the  outer  parlour 
door,  and  while  Lilia  exchumed,  "  Oh,  how  very  unkind 
of  any  one  to  interrupt  us !"  Lucy,  who  opened  it,  ex< 
changed  a  few  whispered  questions  and  replies,  and  then 
led  m  Miss  Graham,  who,  getting  a  chair  for  herself,  and 
pressing  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Moss,  intreated  Mr.  Terrison 
to  continue  his  narrative,  and  poured  herself  out  some 
tea. 

« WeU,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "  I  will  do  so,  merely  re- 
capitulating  my  pre&ce,  that  the  supernatural  fact8  are 
to  be  strictly  stated,  and,  fh>m  delicacy  to  living  bene 
ftotors,  persons  and  localities  ar?  1 1  be  concealed.  Aboi  t 
ten  years  ago  I  was  entrusted  by  my  Bishop  with  both 


W: 


BOin   A8D  TBS  ABBKT. 


82t 


Ipirilual  ani  temporal  charn^  of  three  nuns,  who  were 
■ent  from  their  parent  convent  to  make  a  new  founda* 
tion  of  their  Order  in  a  deserted  old  castle  in  North 
Wales.  They  were  three  rational,  experienced,  middle* 
aged  wouien,  who  said  many  devout  prayers  all  the  jow* 
ney,  with  every  pious  intention  possible  but  that  of  pro» 
teodon  from  the  sensible  attacks  of  the  devil  and  hit 
crew,  which  never  occurred  to  them.  Well,  wo  arrived 
safely,  aid  found  that  part  of  the  vast  building  was  in- 
habited by  the.  confidential  fiirmer  and  agent  of  the  be- 
nefactor,  and  one  or  two  forming  men.  This  was  good 
as  a  protection,  and  every  sound  that  was  heard  over  the 
desolate  old  castle  was  supposed  to  be  from  these  quiet 
men,  who,  however,  were  carefully  barred  out  of  the 
Nuns'  quarters,  and  with  whom  they  held  no  communi- 
cation. After  the  little  stir  and  fatigue  of  the  first  month, 
these  three  good  souls,  whom  I  will  call  Sisters  A.  B.  and 

C.— " 

"Oh!  Reverend  Sir,"  cried  Lilia,  "let  them  ^lave 
names.    Let  them  be  Sisters  Angela,  Beatrice,  and  Ca>- 

milhi.'' 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Terrison.  "Theae 
three  good  souls  lud  settled  as  peacefully  into  their  life, 
which  was  silent  and  contemplative,  as  if  they  had  been 
in  the  place  for  years,  and  many  little  diflSculties,  which 
had  caused  anxiety  in  the  oommeneement,  had  been  over- 
come, when  I  received  the  confidence  of  the  two  seniors, 
first  in  the  confessional,  then,  by  my  desire,  in  open  con- 
rersaUon.  The  jenior,  •  Mother  Angela,'  as  I  am  to  call 
hor,  informed  me  that  she  was  awak«ned  every  night  by 
a  rap  on  the  small  table  which  stood  near  her  bed,  which 


■Vva^WMM 


334 


RUMB    AND   TUI    ABBKT. 


3Mv. 


fir. 


was  accompanied  by  a  great  sensation  of  terror,  and  asked 
permission  both  to  bum  a  light  and  open  a  door  which 
led  into  the  room  of  Sister  Beatrice.  I  granted  both  re- 
quests. But  the  same  day,  or  soon  afVer,  Sister  Beatrice 
asked  permission  to  change  her  room,  which  was  near 
the  village,  to  one  in  the  more  solitary  part  of  the  castle, 
ibr  that  she  was  totally  deprived  of  sleep  by  the  drunken 
brawls  under  her  very  w-indows.  I  discouraged  her  ro> 
moval  from  the  vicinity  of  her  Sisters,  told  her  t<  pisay 
for  the  drunken  men,  and  that  she  must  open  her  door 
into  Mother  Angela's  room^-culls  we  could  not  yet  call 
them,  the  sulMlivision  not  having  been  made.  Those 
rooms  were  vast,  and  desolate  from  want  of  furniture ; 
every  sound  made  an  echo.  Tlie  next  confidential  inti> 
mation  was  that,  not  content  with  letting  some  great  surly 
dog  into  the  rooms  through  some  secret  doo",  which  ani- 
mal  growled  even  under  their  beds,  the  adverse  people 
on  the  premises  fired  off  pistols  and  guns  into  their  very 
aleoping-rooms.  Just  after  hearing  these  symptoms  ot 
great  ill-will  on  the  part  of  our,  so  called,  neighbours,  I 
met,  as  I  frequently  did,  the  good  fiirmer  on  the  road  to 
the  village,  and  he  volunteered  to  congratulate  himself 
his  ikmily,  and  the  neighbourhood,  on  the  arrival  of  the 
Religious  Ladies,  saying  that  there  was  but  one  feeling 
respecting  them,  and  that  the  villagers  all  felt  that  their 
prayers  would  work  a  more  especial  blessing  to  the 
place,  as  the  castle  was  known  to  be  haunted.  That 
night  Sister  Beatrice,  being  already  awake,  heard  Mother 
Angela  send  forth  the  most  piteous  moans,  ati  'Jhe  in- 
stant after  heard  in  the  centre  of  Mother  Angela's  room 
the  growling  and  snarls  of  an  immense  and  enraged  dog. 
Biater  Beatrice,  all  courage  and  generosity,  fiew  to*  Mo 


;in^ 


I  iiiWi 


ROMS  AND  TBI  ABBKT. 


9U 


uid  asked 
lor  which 
I  both  ro- 
Beutrice 
was  near 
be  castlo, 
drunkeo 
d  her  ro 
rU  pi»7 
her  door 
t  yet  call 
These 
iimiture ; 
ntial  inti- 
'eat  surly 
rhich  ani« 
le  people 
lioir  very 
>tom8  ot 
ibours,  I 
3  road  to 

himself 
al  of  the 
e  feeling 
hat  their 
I  to  the 
1.    That 

Mother 
'Jie  in* 

's  room 

(ed  dog. 

to' Mo 


ther  Angela's  rescue,  and  found  her  alone  and  agitated 
by  great  terror.  She  would  not  at  first  relate  the  cause, 
but  afterwards  told  Sister  Beatrice  that  after  waking  in 
unknown  apprehensions,  having  dropped  asleep  again,  aha 
beheld  and  beard  a  door  which  led  from  the  kitchen,  be> 
injj;  forced  open,  and  a  female  crawling  towards  her  on 
Ler  hands  and  knees,  or  rather  on  her  Mrrists  and  knees 
<— the  hands  being  turned  and  the  fingers  elongated  be- 
yond nature.  She  felt  that  she  beheld  a  damned  soul, 
and,  starting  up,  was  repulsing  her  with  tlie  words,  ♦  Oh, 
Mary,  conceived  without  sin,'  when  she  awoke,  to  hear 
Sister  Beatrice  express  her  surprise  and  joy  that  she  was 
not  found  (truggling  with  a  great  dog.  The  following 
day,  or  soon  after,  a  female  voice  over  Sister  Beatrice's 
head  uttered  the  word  '  Misery.'  The  next  night  Mo- 
ther Angela  sat  in  an  arm-chair  by  Sister  Beatrice's  bed- 
side :  till  twelve  o'clock  having  passed  as  thoy  thought  an 
hour,  for  the  old  watch  was  just  that  hour  too  fiist,  they 
blessed  God  for  the  prospect  of  a  quiet  night ;  and  Mo- 
ther Angela  thought  she  would  take  a  good  sleep,  when 
Sister  Beatrice  said,  '  1  only  regret,  dear  Mother,  thnt 
those  drunken  brawlers  are  now  coming  towards  us,  aiul 
if  they  affect  you  as  they  do  me,  you  will  be  totally  de- 
prived of  rest.  Yes,  here  they  are,  under,  and  even 
climbed  up  to  the  windows !' " 

" '  I  hear  nothing,'  said  Mother  Angela. 

"  •  You  hear  nothing !'  exclaimed  Sister  Beatrice,  'when 
they  are  shouting  and  yelling  into  the  very  window !' 

" '  They  are  not  drunken  men,  they  are  devils !'  said 
Mother  Angela,  while  Sister  Beatrice  nearly  fainted; 
•  We  cannot  pray  for  them — ^we  must  pray  against  them, 
invoking  our  blessed  Lady,  the  Angels,  and  Saints.* 


128 


ROMC   AND  rum   ABBKT. 


"Accordingly  the  two  nuns  prayed  in  li.  loud  roirfl^ 
ivkUo  the  herd  ol* devils  yelled,  shouted,  screamed,  shook 
the  outer  wall  and  window,  and  threatened  at  each  instant 
to  burst  into  the  room — Mother  Angela,  who  had  the  loud- 
est voice,  following  the  directions  of  Sister  Beatrice,  who 
•lone  heard  them  on  tliat  night ;  for  had  both  heard  the 
infuriated  mob  they  would  still  have  passed  rash  judg- 
ment on  the  poor  villagers,  who  were  quietly  in  their 
beds.  The  devils  were  particulaily  furious  at  the  re* 
ciution  of  the  Creed,  and  at  that  part  of  the  Litany 
of  Jesus  which  says  '  From  all  sin — from  Thy  wrath — 
from  the  snares  of  the  devil — from  the  spirit  of  im- 
purity — fh>m  everlastuig  death.  Lord  Jesus,  deliver  us.' 
Thus  did  the  two  parties  keep  up  through  that  night, 
with  but  short  intervals,  till  the  daybreak  bell  of 
'  Angelus  Domini,'  which  dispersed  the  enemy.  . 

"  In  the  following  night  Mother  Angela  heard  the  in- 
fernal troop,  and  felt  convinced  that  she  had  not  heard 
them  the  night  before  in  order  that  both  she  and  Sister 
Beatrice  might  know  them  to  be  what  they  were.  Thif 
second  night  they  both  heard,  for  the  first  time,  a  bell, 
high  in  the  air,  but  distinctly  suundmg  with  sonorous 
sweetness,  which  drove  away  the  demons;  and  firom 
that  time  the  devils  attacked,  and  the  bell  repulsed  theau 
with  various  changes  in  the  hour  and  mode  of  altoclc, 
till  one  night  Sister  Beatrice,  falling  asleep,  saw  the  same 
woman  advancing  in  an  upright  posture,  with  the  sam« 
distorted  hands  placed  conspicuously  before  her ;  and, 
awaking,  beheld  a  long  flame  moving  rapidly  to  and  fh> 
without  changing  its  upright  posture,  and  feeling  assured 
that  she  saw  a  lost  soul,  she  fled  'n  tenor  to  Mother 
Angela,  whom  she  found  aw  ve  ana  .. .  ..iblirg  ftom  ths 


KOUB  AMD  TBI  ABBir. 


iounds  of  that  nocturnal   monster.     About  tWi  Ubm 
Bister  Camilla,  who  liud  not  been  previously  terrified, 
))ecame  a  sharer  in  the  cross  of  her  Religious  Sisters. 
She  was  very  musical,  l^»d  was  at  first  pursued  by  di*. 
oordant  sounds  on  a  bad  instrument,  and  the  chirping  of 
birds ;  then  by  a  sound  between  a  pig  apd  a  calf,  and 
cracking  a  whip— but  to  return  for  the  present  to  the 
angolio  bell.    It  sometimes  sounded  as  a  warning  in  the 
same  sweet  tome,  and  in  a  short  time  we  had  the  infernal 
crew  at  the  windows  and  doors,  sometimes  to  the  num- 
ber of  three  hundred,  one  crowding  on  the  back  of  ano- 
ther, mostly  men,  but  also  many  women,  screaming, 
quarrelling,  taunting,  mucking,  and  even  laughing—Oh, 
how  horrible  was  that  laugh  I     They  also  made  the 
sounds  of  dogs  and  cats  and  serpents.    One,  clear  moon- 
light night,  Mother  Angela  took  courage  to  look  out,  but 
could  not  see  this  multitude.    Sister  Beatrice  had  some- 
times seen  specimens  of  these  devils  and  lost  souls,  ifi, 
large  birds  with  human  faces,  difierent  sorts  of  shadowft 
Itnd  flames.    Every  evening   before  the  night-prayer^ 
they  went  round  their  part  of  the  premises,  one  holdinji 
a  large  blessed  crucifix,  another  the  lamp,  and  on^  of 
them  the  holy  water,  with  which  they  marked  each  door 
an^  window,  saying,  '  The  cross  and  seal  of  Jesus  be^ 
tween  us  and  all  the  pow^  of  darkness !'  or  sometimefi 
saying,  'Betwe^  us  and  all  that's  evil!'    This  dqie,^ 
^aoh  surrounded  herself  with  blessed  and  holy  emblemi) 
and  relics,  firom  which  she  received  immediate  tokens  of 
warning  or  encouragement    Mother  Angela  had  hung 
the  beads  of  the  seven  dolours  of  our  Lady  on  a  ntul  ii^ 
her  window-shutter,  and  these  beads  either  waved  to  wd 
(to,  or  sounded  before  the  evil  spirits  approached.    She 


828 


SOltl  AND  THB  ABBET. 


had  lent  a  little  bell,  blessed  at  Loretto,  to  Sisttf 
Beatrice,  and  this  sweet-toned  little  bel'.  would  ring  h} 
an  invisible  angelic  hand  to  console  her  in  the  night, 
and  doubtless  to  scare  away  some  near  demon.  It  was 
Seldom  that  Sister  Beatrice  fled  to  her  two  Religious 
Sisters,  who  now  slept  in  the  same  large  room  divided 
into  cells,  with  a  passage  between  them  which  led  into 
her  roora.  She  had  r-eat  courage  for  herself,  but,  at  the 
least  sound  of  distress  from  one  of  them,  she  was  at  her 
bedside  in  an  instant.  She  removed,  at  their  entreaties, 
duriiijj  a  few  nights  to  the  end  of  Mother  Angela's  long 
cell,  but  soon  begged  to  return  to  her  solitude,  although 
the  devils  shook  and  rocked  the  bed  under  her,  she 
beteg  armed  with  fervent  prayor,  and  the  various  tokens 
of  heavenly  protection  blessed  by  the  Church. 

"  Sister  Camilla  made  some  remarks  at  that  time,  which 
have  remained  on  my  mind,  and  which  1  will  give  to 
you.  '  I  was  often  accused,'  said  she, '  when  living  iu 
the  world,  of  morbid  sensibility,  because  I  abhorred  ma- 
licious pleasantry  and  practical  jokes ;  and  now  I  feel 
more  than  ever  assured  that  it  was  by  the  spirit  of  God 
that  I  abhorred  all  that,  which  I  now  find  to  belonj  to 
devils,  and  which  they  vent  upon  me,  because  of  my  ut- 
ter aversion,  from  rude  pranks,'  Sister  Camilla  then 
gave  me  a  list  of  the  annoyances  which  these  imps  prac 
tised,  and  which  would  have  been  laughable  enough  as 
boyish  pranks,  but  inspired  disgust  and  terror  when 
known  to  come  from  the  enemies  of  God.  Still  more 
did  the  horrible  sound  of  scoffing,  taunting,  and  upbraid- 
ing convey  to  the  mind  the  restless  malice  of  sin,  and 
loss  of  charity  for  ever :  and  with  still  greater  zeal  did 
these  three  solitary  handmaids  of  God  ouMvate  towardi 


I 


jl 


noUt  Aim.  THE  ABBET. 


829 


aaoh  other  the  loving  fruits  of  the  Spirit— lovo,  \oy 
peace,  long-auffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  patience ;  and 
like  the  tliree  holy  children,  did  they  bless  and  trust 
Almighty  God,  in  the  furnace  of  this  new  and  prolonged 
trial." 

Mr.  Terrison  here  paused;  and  his  eager  listeners 
commenced  their  comments  and  their  questions;  the 
most  important  of  which  was,  "  Why  he  had  not  had 
recourse  to  the  exorcisms  of  the  Church,  in  order  to  expel 
the  devils  from  the  castle  and  premises  V 

"  I  did  both  bless  anu  exorcise,"  roplied  he,  «  from  the 
hooka  in  my  possession :  but  these  e-^iorcisms  were  not 
exactly  intended  for  the  case  in  question,  and  I  set  off 
across  the  mountains  in  quest  of  an  <dd  Saint,  as  I  knew 
him  to  be,  who  had  been  given,  like  Saint  Anthony  the 
Hermit,  great  power  over  the  demoni^  as  they  had 
themselves  conlessed.  He  came  back  with  me  to  the 
castle,  after  the  three  Nuns  had  endured  a  tremendous 
onset,  as  they  had  expected,  during  my  absence.  Thay 
had  also  experienced  an  annoyance  from  the  very  first 
which  I  had  forgotten  lo  menti  ..  This  was,  the  imita- 
tion of  each  other's  voices,  especially  that  of  Mother 
Angela,  who  was  supposed  to  call '  Sister,'  and  if  Sister 
Beatrice  delayed,  to  add, '  come,  my  dear— qMick,  quicl( !' 
which  gave  Sister  Beatrice  many  a  useless  trip.  Mother 
Angola  also,  whenever  they  said  their  offine,  eii«h  in  pri- 
vate,  was  in  tho  habit  of  singing  the  different  anth.'ms 
and  hymns  before  her  own  little  oratory,  but  made  no 
rule  of  doing  thus,  and  often  read  them  in  a  low  tone  in- 
stead.  These  devils  imitated  her  voice  and  the  old  chant 
so  exactly,  that  her  sisters  supposed  her  to  be  singing 
when  she  was  not ;  and  even  dared  to  imitate  tho  tune 


■■  lit  I 


^^ 


..^ijpdlA '*'"■**- 


SJO 


BOMK   ARO  THE  AB3KT. 


■,l'.: 


.  *♦ 


of  the  Siicrainentitl  Hymns.  When  the  trick  was  dis* 
covered,  the  Nuns  were  filled  with  bon'or ;  but  I  com- 
Ibrted  them  by  the  assurance  that  devils  could  not  pro- 
nounce the  sacred  words,  and  bade  Mother  Angela  sing 
•way  an  usual,  nay,  more  than  usual,  in  reparation  of  the 
insult  offered  to  the  Majesty  of  God.  The  aim  of  these 
miscreants  was  to  terrify  and  disgust  the  three  Religious 
foundresses  from  awai(:ing  the  ai'rival  of  others  of  tlieir 
former  Community,  who,  with  new  Postulants,  were  to 
arrive  in  the  spring.  We  were  now  in  the  month  oi 
Qctober,  with  fine  clear  weather  from  noon  till  sun- 
set ;  but  with  heavy  fogs  in  the  morning,  and  chilly 
evenings,  with  a  uolth  wind  that  howled  wonderfully  tc 
us  all,  and  to  Sister  Beatrice,  who  hear  supematurally, 
was  full  of  fiendish  voices.  These  three  servants  of  God 
were  quite  aware  of  the  secret  artifices  of  him  whose  sad 
notoriety  is  to  be  chief  against  God,  wd  whose  subordi* 
Date  captains,  or  slave-drivers,  audibly  lashed  on  their 
victims  to  persecute  the  aspirants  to  Heaven.  They 
persevered  in  their  solitude  by  night  as  by  day,  until, 
finding  the  health  of  two  of  them  injured  by  the  super- 
human exertions  they  made  to  brave  the  infernal  spirits 
hi  silence,  I  bade  them  accept  the  consolation  and  sup- 
port which  human  nature  finds  in  its  ov^n  kind ;  and  they 
spoke  or  went  to  each  other  whenever  they  absolutely 
required  the  solace  of  uniting  together  in  prayer — tor  the 
rooms  were  immei:iely  lofty,  the  divisions  of  the  cells 
only  seven  feet  high,  and  they  could  hear  even  a  sigh 
or  whisper,  the  one  of  the  other.  Thus  I  had  left  them, 
■nd  during  my  absence-  the  devil,  not  content  to  threw 
■hadows  ou  the  walls  of  the  cells,  of  a  tall  man  and  of 
three  females,  at  eepante  timea^  whose  lost  souls  were 


k  was  dis- 
lut  I  com* 
1  not  pro- 
ngela  sing 
ition  of  the 
n  of  theso 
I  Religious 
ra  of  tlieir 
8,  were  to 
month  of 
a  till  sun- 
and  chilly 
derftilly  tc 
maturally, 
otsofGod 
whose  sad 
e  Bubordi* 
i  on  dieir 
en.  They 
day,  until, 
the  super* 
■nal  spirits 

and  siip- 
;  and  the>' 
absolutely 
sr — ^for  the 

the  cells 
en  a  sigh 
leil  them, 

to  threw 
an  and  of 
louli  wer* 


■^ 


ROm  AKD  TBI  ABBKT. 


an 


•opposed  to  haunt  the  castle,  but  actually  caused  flames 
to  dart  from  the  wall  which  divided  the  cells  of  Mother 
Angela  and  Sister  Beatrice,  wlilch  were  seen  by  the 
former  during  the  night,  and  by  the  latter  in  broad  day- 
light The  howling  and  infernal  altercations  which  were 
at  first  only  at  the  windows,  were  now  within  the  castle; 
and  the  Nuns  scarcely  dared  take  the  solace  of  mention- 
ing to  each  other  what  each  had  heard  or  witnessed ;  be* 
cause,  as  they  were  invisibly  watched,  advantage  was 
taken  by  the  fiends  to  further  terrify  and  disturb  them. 
On  the  arrival  of  the  good  old  missionary  priest  at  the 
little  inn  in  the  village,  we  found  that  he  preferred  re* 
maining  th^re  at  night  to  occupying  the  room  prepared 
in  the  castle.  The  following  morning,  after  we  had  both 
offered  the  holy  sacrifice  in  the  chapel,  or  rather  church 
once  attached  to  the  castle,  we  took  our  breakfiist  to* 
l^ether  m  my  rooms,  and  he  told  me  that  in  the  night  he 
was  awakened  by  a  piercing  thrust  into  his  tongue  of 
such  acute  pain  that  he  could  scarcely  believe  that  no 
instrument  had  touched'him,  and  that  this  acute  thouga 
momentary  sufiering  had  been  produced  on  the  nerves 
hy  the  malicious  power  of  the  devil.  '  Nor  was  this  all,* 
added  he, '  for,  while  reading  this  morning  in  :iny  room, 
awaiting  the  church-bell,  so  violent  an  earthquake,  sc  it 
■e«ued,  shook  me  and  every  thuig  in  the  room,  that 
having  placed  one  foot  on  the  other  knee  supporting  a 
large  book,  I  was  obliged  to  plant  both  feet  firmly  on 
the  ground  to  prevent  falluig,  and  watched  the  table 
near  me,  expecting  that  everything  on  it  would  be  shaken 
on  the  floor.  So,'  said  he,  smiling,  *  if  the  enemy  treats 
me  in  this  way  at  the  inn,  what  would  he  have  dime  had 
(slept  in  the  castle  t"*  • 


mmmmmmm 


wmm 


tst 


ROUC  AKD  THK   ABBST. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


Who  my  Jodge  (iiKelio  miulovi 

Or  demoniac  art  t 
Who  dare  call  it  •■pontiUaa, 

Oodt  troth  to  impwtt 

DuBiso  the  first  part  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Ten!«m' 
narrative  Mrs.  Moss,  nearly  blinded  by  her  tears,  had 
been  keeping  his  various  cups  of  tea  ready  for  him,  and 
had  lost  or  confused  much  of  the  history,  which  Miss 
Graham  promised  to  recapitulate  to  her :  but  Mr.  Terrison, 
having  refreshed  himself,  i(ow  recommenced,  and,  like 
the  rest  of  his  auditors.  Mm.  Moss  could  not  but  listen 
with  interest,  ifter  ejaculating,  «  Oh,  why  did  k»  never 
hear  't  all  who  would  have  made  such  wise  and  learned 
comment! !" 

"  Hitherto,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "  there  had  been  oir- 
cumstances  of  importance  mentioned  to  me  solely  m  the 
confessional,  which  I  thought  our  experienced  old  priest 
ought  to  know,  but  which  I  had  forgotten  to  ask  permi* 
sion  to  state  to  him ;  and  for  that  reason,  before  we  pro- 
ceeded  to  the  exorcisms,  I  took  him  to  visit  the  three 
Nuns,  and  obtained  their  leave  to  mention  to  him,  in  their 
presence,  the  various  supernatural  fkvours  received  moet 
abundantly  at  that  time,  some  of  which  appeared  to  l»e  in 
immediate  connection  with  the  trial  they  had  to  endurev 
and  of  which  I  have  at  present  recorded  only  the  belU 
We  proceeded  to  the  parlour  of  the  Nuns,  a  jd  they  hav- 


)101I>  Xm  TBI  ABBIT. 


838 


Tenr«m' 
tears,  had 
:  faim,  and 
hich  Miss 
.Terrison, 

and,  like 
but  listen 

he  never 
d  learned 

been  oir> 
ily  in  the 
>Id  priest 
I  permi» 
e  wepro- 
the  three 
I,  in  theit 
r'ed  muet 
to  tie  in 
endure^ 
he  bell% 
hey  hav- 


4ig  given  fiill  leave ,  I  informed  Father  John,  that  from 
the  high  altar  of  tL?  church  which  fronted  their  choir, 
and  from  the  altar  of  th?  rosary  on  the  south  side  of  the 
church,  Sister  Beatrice  had  (luring  the  past  three  months 
beheld  in  succession  our  blessed  Lady,  once  holding  up 
to  view  the  Divine  In&nt,  who  smUed  on  Sister  Beatrice 
— «t  other  times  holding  a  cross,  varying  in  site  ar^ 
brilliancy — Saint  Catherine  of  Sienna,  who  generally  held 
a  white  banner,  on  which  was  a  brilliant  cross— Saint 
Teresa,  holding  in  one  hand  a  beautiful  little  girl,  pro- 
bably Sister  Beatrice's  sister  who  died  at  five  years  of 
age,  and  in  the  other  a  cross,  the  stem  of  which  became 
immensely  long— Saint  Dominiclc — Saint  John  of  the 
Cross ; — ^while  at  that  time,  from  the  high  altar,  departed 
priests  in  glory,  who  often  mingled  with  the  real  cele- 
brants on  the  great  festivals,  blessed  the  Nuns,  especially 
Mother  Angela,  who,  however,  never  saw  them :  they 
were  beheld  solely  by  Sister  Beatrice.  /  <ter  this,  as  the 
persecution  of  the  devils  became  more  open  and  conti- 
nued, the  heavenly  communications  were  also  more 
abundant,  until  the  not  beholding  each  day  some  tokou  of 
warning  or  encouragement  was  a  rarity.  The  pairtiug 
at  the  high  altar  was  of  the  Assumption  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  Mary,  who,  supported  by  the  Archangels  Michael 
and  Gabriel,  and  surrounded  by  other  angels,  occupied 
the  upper  pai-t  of  the  picture :  the  lower  part  was  filed 
by  the  eleven  Apostles,  gazing  on  the  vacated  tomb  </ 
ths  blessed  Virgin ;  Saint  Peter  and  Saint  John  being  the 
most  conspicuous  in  the  foreground.  A  small  brilliant 
cross  appeared  on  the  back  of  Saint  Peter's  neck,  and  a 
large  cross  in  the  group  of  the  Apostles;  but  every  other 


.««nii 


334 


ROm  Airo  THC   ABBCr. 


sign  was  given  from  that  time  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
painting :  it  would  be  impossible  to  record  them  a!!.  The 
principal  were  the  cross  on  the  shoulder  of  the  Arch- 
angel Michael,  sometimes  changing  to,  or  being  also  on 
his  head ;  at  which  times  the  representation  on  the  canvi^ss 
was  obscured  by  the  brilliancy  of  a  real  angel ; — an 
anchor,  a  sword,  a  cross-bow  and  arrows,  imiomerable 
Migels  with  palms.  Bishops'  mitres,  the  benignant  and 
joy  All  countenances  of  different  departed  friends  and  re- 
ligious in  glory — the  chief  of  these  departed  friends,  who 
was  a  dignitary  high  in  the  Church,  holding  also  a  cross. 
But  the  most  emphatic  emblem  was  a  crucifix,  or  some- 
times a  plain  cross,  with  cordage  hanging  from  1;he  arms 
of  the  cross.  When  I  finished  my  detail  of  these  super- 
natural intimations  from  the  altar.  Father  John  said  to 
the  Nuns,  *  My  dear  Sisters  in  Christ,  had  I  known  all 
this,  I  should  not  have  started  on  my  journey.  This 
trial  is  not  only  permitted,  but  willed  by  God ;  and  until 
you  can  write  or  send  me  word  of  other  tokens  than 
those  now  mentioned,  I  could  not  venture  to  begin  the 
exorcisms.  You  must  generously  consent  to  be  tied  by 
cords  to  this  cross,  knowing  well  that  He  who  is  for  you 
is  greater  than  he  who  is  against  you.  But  as  I  have 
arranged  to  remained  here  till  to-morro  ir,  I  will  return 
this  evening  and  conduct  your  meditation,  suggesting  such 
motives  for  consolation  as  I  may  be  inspired  by  God  to 
deliver  to  you.'  This  he  did ;  and  the  Nuns  consentad 
to  endure  the  trial,  uid  no  longer  to  expect  relief  firom 
the  Church.  Father  John  left  us,  and  the  exultation  of 
the  devils  was  manifested  both  by  the  sublime  and  the 
ridiculous,  as  his  parting  ferewell  and  blessing  was  m> 


SOliC   Am  TBI  ABBKY. 


S85 


irt  of  tbe 
all.  The 
iie  Arciv 
ig  also  on 
lecfuivi^s 
igel ;— on 
jmerable 
;nant  aud 
U  and  re- 
snds,  who 
o  a  cross, 
or  some- 
the  arms 
ise  super* 
\m  said  to 
known  all 
ey.  This 
and  until 
cens  thui 
begin  the 
e  tied  by 
is  for  you 
as  I  have 
lU  return 
sting  such 
y  God  to 
sonsented 
ief  Arom 
tation  of 
e  and  the 
K  was  My 


eompauiei  by  the  rolling  of  thunder  and  the  braying  of 
on  ass  in  the  next  room,  into  which  it  is  scarcely  nec(«- 
aary  to  mention  neither  thunder  nor  an  ass  liad  actuahy 
entiered.  In  about  a  fortnight,  however,  Mother  Angela 
wrote  to  the  Bishop,  giving  all  her  confidence  to  his 
Lordship,  and  in  consequence  of  an  intimation  of  the 
divine  will,  asking  permission  to  have  the  exorcisms  piri- 
vately  made  within  the  castle  by  Father  John.  Tlie 
Bishop  replied  in  a  most  patenuil  manner,  giving  the 
required  permission,  and  comforting  the  poor  Nuns  by 
proniise  of  prayers,  with  exhorttition  to  be  of  good 
courage.  The  Bishop's  letter,  with  Mother  Angela's  fresh 
accounts,  were  sent  to  Father  John ;  and  it  would  seem 
that  they  agreed  with  some  revelation  to  himself^  for  he 
no  longer  refused,  but  came  provided  to  use  the  arms  of 
tba  Church  against  the  enemy." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  delighted!"  exclaimed  Lilia;  "howl 
should  have  enjoyed  being  present  to  witness  the  power 
of  the  Church  against  the  power  of  darlcness." 

**  Were  the  Nuns  present.  Sir  ?"  inquired  Sister  Agnes. 

"  Yes,  they  were,"  said  Mr.  Terrison,  "  and  the  pious 
women  who  acted  is  Lay  Sisters,  and  had  latterly  shared 
in'  th-ir  afllictibn.  The  place  selected  was  the  chamber  oi 
Sister  Beatrice,  in  which  the  nocturnal  persecutions  had 
increased  to  the  greatest  audacity.  l%e  Nuns  had  all 
three  inclined  to  the  belief  that  lost  souls  surroimded 
them ;  this  was  not  the  belief  of  Father  John,  who  con- 
cluded, tr^m  all  their  replies  to  his  questiotis,  that  tha 
demons  took  human  forms." 

"  Now,  why  did  Father  John  so  dedde  t"  said  S'lter 
Aipies. 


gBvasasESSu 


SS8 


MWa  AKD   THE  ADBKT. 


"Becauie,**  replied  Mr.  Terriaon,  "having  luywif 
thought,  with  the  Nuns,  that  former  inhabitants  of  the 
castle  haunted  the  place,  1  desired  Mother  Angela  to 
question  them  •(  midnight  thus,  '  Id  the  name  of  th« 
adorable  Trinity,  I  forbid  you  to  injure  me :  in  the  namt 
of  the  adorable  Trinity,  I  command  you  to  tell  me  wht 
you  are :  in  the  name  of  the  adorable  Trinity,  I  commani 
you  to  tell  me  whut  you  want*  This  she  did  very  solemnly 
at  three  intervals,  but  receiving  no  answer,  I  concludai 
as  I  have  told  you ;  for  the  reappearance  of  the  dead  is  by 
the  sole  power  of  God,  for  warning  or  encouragement  of 
the  living ;  and  when  commanded  in  His  name  to  speak, 
they  are  forced  to  obey.  Hie  phantoms,  therefore,  which 
multiplied  in  every  variety  around  these  servants  of  God, 
were  caubed  solely  by  the  malice  of  the  devil ;  and  the 
8&me  may  be  said  of  the  voices,  one  of  which  in  broad 
Scc'tch  uttered  the  worldly  name  of  Mother  Angela ;  and 
likewiue  of  the  animals,  barking,  snarling,  and  hissing, 
and  the  horrible  stench  of  brimstone  and  sulphur,  which 
wss  the  last  novelty  in  their  list  of  per8ecuti<^>ns." 

"J  should  like  very  mudi  to  know,  if  I  luay,"  asii. 
LUia,  "  what  it  was  that  melted  Father  John's  heart,  and 
ma<le  him  consent  to  the  exorcisms.  I  suppose  it  was 
some  direct  intimation  from  Heaven  that  God  was  more 
merciful  than  himself  to  the  poor  Nuns  T 

"And  can  you  remember.  Sir,"  said  Sister  Agnes, 
"all  the  prayers  and  formulary  of  exorcising  those  evi] 
■pirits  ?" 

"  I  will  some  day  read  to  you,"  replied  Mi.  Terrison, 
"  the  principal  abjurations  which  are  <?iclaratory  of  the 
awful  and  supieme  power  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Clhrist  over 


!!'_;■ 


KOMI   AMD  THS  ABBIT. 


M» 


tfio  devil,  and  which  in  His  name,  at  which  all  things 
must  bow — within,  above,  and  below  the  earth,  forbid 
that  His  servants  shall  suffer  any  infernal  persecution. 
Father  John  performed  the  whole  formulary  directed  by 
the  Church,  with  entire  faith  that  these  spiritual  arms 
would  put  to  flight  the  enemy :  and  accordingly  we  after- 
wards rendered  thanks  to  God  that  the  infernal  crew, 
although  still  heard  without  the  castle,  were  banished  Um 
•nolosure  of  the  Nuns." 

"  I  have  often  heard  my  lamented  friend,  Mr.  Everard, 
say,"  observed  Mrs.  Moss,  "that  the  Protestants  of 
Germany  were  the  only  body,  separated  from  the  Qiuroh, 
that  had  retained  the  truth  of  the  active  persecution  and 
malicious  acts  of  the  devils  towards  Oiristians ;  but  he 
nsed  to  say  that,  because  they  had  renounced  the  Catholio 
truth  of  the  active  agency  of  angels  and  blessed  spirits, 
they  h  \d  only  a  gloomy  and  terrific  belief,  despoiled  oi 
■11  oonsolation.  I  remember  his  very  words,  peace  be  to 
his  soul !  And  now.  Reverend  Sir,  with  many  thanks  to 
Lady  de  Grrey  for  inviting  me  here  to  be  spiritually  enter- 
tained out  of  my  grief,  and  to  you  for  such  an  interesting 
history,  and  to  Miss  Graham,  who  promises  to  roreat 
over  the  first  part  to  me  some  day,  I  will  return  to  sit  by 
him — ^Mr.  Everard,  I  mean — ^for  the  few  hours  still  left 
me  to  do  so.  lis  only  his  body,  to  be  sure ;  but  who 
knows  but  what  the  soul  may  be  hovering  near ;  for  he 
used  to  say  that  it  was  no  vulgar  error,  but  a  fitct,  that 
the  soul  had  a  care  for  the  body  that  was  to  be  raised  in 
glory  and  reunited  to  her  cmce  more  and  for  ever ;  and 
that  was  die  reason  that  the  tombs  and  relios  of  martyrs 
wd  saints  were  so  often  the  scene  of  greAt  minKfles." 
15 


(iidniwtriiiiMir 


I 


r 


nOMK  AND  TBC  ABBBT. 

After  Mrs.  Moss  had  left  them,  and  that  Lucy  had  alM 
retired,  Miss  Graham  said,  **  Lilia,  you  atiked  ine  on* 
day  what  made  me  become  a  Catholic  1" 

"  Oh,  Miss  Graham  !  dear  Miss  Graham,"  cried  Lilia, 
**  are  you  indeed  going  to  tell  me  1    How  delightful  t" 

"  I  did  not  intend  eyentually  to  disappoint  you,  Lilia," 
said  Miss  Graham ;  "  1  merely  waited  ontil  something 
like  the  conversation  of  to-day  should  prepare  your  mind 
for  the  fact,  that  not  by  long  controversial  disputes,  not 
by  learned  books  or  eloquent  sejmons,  but  by  perceiving 
the  power  given  to  the  Catholic  priesthood  over  the  ma- 
licious  arts  of  Satan,  was  I  humbled  to  their  obedience. 
1  say  humbled,  because,  in  taking  a  retrospective  view  of 
my  then  state  of  mind,  it  seems  obvious  that  God  so 
willed  to  cast  down  my  pride.    The  scene  of  my  virtual 
conversion  took  not  place  in  Scotland,  where  might  be 
supposed  to  exist  more  superstitious  leaning  towards  the 
Bupernatural,  especially  in  the  Highlands :  it  was  in  • 
very  sober  part  of  England,  where  a  little  girl  well  known 
to  me  flrom  her  birth,  having  unconsciously  excited  the 
jealous  rage  of  an  old  wonuun,  who,  like  herself,  was  a 
pensioner  of  my  cousin's  fitmily,  the  wretdi  invoked  on 
the  child  the  evil  spirit,  and  she  became  possessed. 
Every  succour  brought  by  the  Protestant  and  Dissenting 
clei^y  and  pious  congregations  failed ;  and  as  a  last  re- 
source only,  with  some  scruples  and  great  caution,  the 
Catholic  priest  of  the  neighbouring  town  was  summoned 
to  her  aid.    He  prayed— they  had  done  the  same— but 
he  likewise  drew  forth  a  weapon  agamst  Satan  whick 
they  had  never  used,  a  blessed  medal  of  the  immaculatf 
Mother  of  God,  which  he  laid  on  the  breast  of  the  child. 


hadalM 
ine  MM 

ed  Lilio, 
itful!" 
B,Laia,'» 
imething 
tor  mind 
utes,  not 
irceiving 
the  in»- 
aedience. 
e  view  of 
God  80 
y  virtual 
night  be 
rards  the 
tras  in  a 
U  known 
sited  the 
f,  was  a 
'oked  on 
ossessedt 
issentiug 
last  re* 
ition,  the 
mmoned 
me— 4int 
m  whick 
maculate 
he  child. 


1 


r 


KOm   AND  TBI   ABBIT. 


38» 


She  opened  her  innocent  and  intelligent  eyes,  smiled  on 
her  mother  and  on  me ;  and  from  that  moment  the  devil, 
Kavjng  left  her,  never  returned.  In  vain  did  the  worthy 
Incumbent  of  oui  parish  aiRrm  that  a  shilling  would  have 
done  as  well :  in  vain  did  the  Dissenting  ministers  en- 
deavour to  give  a  wholly  physical  solution  to  the  instant 
deliverance  of  the  child  from  satanio  possession.  I  waa 
from  that  moment  a  Catholic  in  heart :  no  was  the  mo- 
ther  of  little  Fanny ;  and  we  made  our  abjuration,  by 
agreement,  on  the  same  day — she  to  the  priest  just  men- 
tioned, I  in  Edinburgh,  to  the  Catholic  Bishop  of  our 
Mid-Lothian,  admiring  the  various  means  by  which  Al- 
mighty God  sees  fit  to  draw  souls  to  the  knowledge  and 
acceptance  of  His  mysteries." 

Aa  Katherine  Graham  finished  her  little  history,  she 
received  the  grateful  thanks  of  Lilia,  and  the  assurances 
of  the  two  friends  already  admitted  to  her  confidence, 
that  they  rejoiced  to  hear  it  again :  after  which  the  Reve- 
rend Mr.  Terrison  was  summoned  to  the  room  where  lay 
the  remains  of  Mr.  Everard,  to  be  present  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  will.  This  will  was  consistent  with  the  writer's 
whole  life  of  strong  adhesive  attachments,  and  suscepti- 
bility, though  in  a  subordinate  degree,  to  kindness  shown 
even  from  strangers ;  and  after  the  bulk  of  his  fortune 
and  landed  property  had  been  bestowed  on  the  daughter 
and  brothers  of  his  early  love,  there  followed  l^acies  and 
personal  gifls  and  remembrances :  first  to  Lord  Elverton, 
tliec  to  his  faithful  Mrs.  Moss,  and  then  to  so  many  per' 
sons  whose  names  and  residences  were  unknown  to  the 
party  assembled,  that  Lord  Elverton,  afler  ascertaining 
that  his  Lady  and  the  two  children  of  his  second  mar- 
riage wera  to  suooMtd  onljr  to  a  teleaoope,  a  broftoh,  and 


i 


840 


ROME  AMD  TBI  ABBBT. 


•  cabinet  of  curiusities,  quietly  drew  forth  the  last  mini' 
ber  uf  our  niodum  "  Kanibler,"  and  took  a  side  view  of 
the  opinions  and  doings  of  London  Catholics  in  the  8uui> 
iner  of  1847.  He  was  roused,  however,  by  a  codicil  tc 
the  will,  in  which,  after  providing  Lilia's  portion,  Mr. 
Evcrard  declared,  that  if  the  Right  Reveren'l  Dr.  Sin- 
clair disinherited  his  nephew  and  heir,  Frederick,  he 
(Mr.  Everard)  left  the  property  designed  for  the  uncle 
during  his  life,  at  once  to  the  nephew.  He  also,  in  this 
codicil,  dechired  that,  on  coming  of  age,  Henry  Everard 
Sinclair,  his  godson,  should  at  on<«  take  possession  of  the 
estate  of  Burnleigh  and  the  already  bequeaUied  two 
thousand  a  year,  whidi  in  the  bo«ly  of  the  will  had  been 
left  to  the  Reverend  Edmund  Sinclair  Uie  father.  He 
also  recommended  to  his  godion,  Henry  Everard  Sin- 
clair, to  marry  the  third  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Hunger- 
ford,  the  Lady  Emily  Harvey,  god-daughter  of  the  wri- 
ter, to  whom  he  had  beqwAthed  some  personal  gifts  of 
value ;  while  he  recommended  tlie  !<ieoond  daughter.  Lady 
Anne,  to  Ferdinand  Oarrington :  and  this  characteristic 
care  of  die  domestic  happiness  of  his  god-children  and 
other  young  friends  drew  a  smile  from  all  '£ut  the  young 
Henry,  who,  blushing  and  frowning,  pushnd  back  his 
chair  under  the  broad  shadow  of  Mr.  Terrison ;  resolving, 
however,  that  during  his  first  leave  of  absence  from  the 
country  of  his  present  destinatioi>,  he  would  asoc>rtain 
whether  the  noble  damsel  were  disposed  to  be  emanci- 
pated from  the  tight  tibeology  of  her  parents,  and  remem- 
bered, as  he  did,  their  annual  meetmgs  ht  Mr.  Everard'* 
juvenile  f^te  champdtre,  on  the  lawn  at  Bumloigh  House. 
"Hie  day  after  the  interment  of  the  justly-valued  Mr 
Bverard,  his  fiuthful  Moss  imparted  to  ths  English  B» 


r 


BOm  AXD  TBI  ABBBT. 


Wl 


ast  minv 
J  vlow  of 
the  Buui- 
lodicil  tc 
ion,  Mr. 
Dr.  Sin^ 
erick,  he 
bhe  unci* 
K>,  in  this 
Everard 
ion  of  the 
thed  two 
had  been 
her.     He 
rard  Sin- 
f  Hunger- 
■  the  wri- 
il  gifts  of 
ter,  Lady 
■acteristio 
dren  and 
he  young 
baclc  hie 
resolving, 
from  the 
aacortoin 
e  ema7ici- 
d  romeni- 
Sverard't 
;h  House, 
lued  Mr 
igUihB* 


Bgiouii  her  Intention  of  retiuming  immediately  to  'Eng> 
Und,  and  to  Bumleigh.  "  There  be  many  things,  my 
Lady,'*  said  she,  "  to  arrange  according  to  the  wishes 
of  him  that's  gone ;  and  as  he  has  been  pleased  to  Icart 
for  my  share  all  the  linen  and  china,  I  will,  after  serving 
every  one  else  for  conscience  salte,  thun  talie  care  of 
what  is  left  me,  and  paolc  it  up  for  the  convent  against 
you  are  ready  for  it.  Ma'am." 

"  But  who  is  to  accompany  you  1"  inquired  the  RelU 
gious ;  "  do  not  hurry  off  till  some  friend,  spealiing  your 
own  tongue  and  feeling  kindly  for  your  bereavement, 
■ball  be  foimd." 

"  Many  tiuinks,  my  Lady,"  replied  Mrs.  Moss ;  "  but 
there  is  the  same  private  friend,  a  Mrs.  Bowles,  who  was 
taken  into  the  Church  the  same  day  as  I,  and  is  ready  to 
go  wherever  I  go.  She  will  stay  with  me  at  Burnleigh 
House,  and  come  with  me  to  the  convent,  if  you  be 
agreeable  to  it,  my  Lady." 

Thus  was  it  settled ;  but  Mrs.  Moss  had  still  another 
plan  to  propose.  "  Maybe,"  said  she,  "  that  it  would  be 
convenient  to  you,  my  Lady,  to  have  some  place  in  Eng. 
land  for  persons  to  come  to  who  are  wishing  to  join  you, 
but  do  not  know  whure  you  are  to  fix.  Mr.  Everard 
has  desired  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sinclair,  who  have  the 
place  till  Master  Henry  is  of  age,  will  not  disturb  me 
under  one  year  from  the  day  of  his  death ;  so  that  you 
can  write  to  any  lady  to  come  to  me,  bringing  enough  to 
cover  her  expenses,  and  I  will  make  her  as  comfortable 
as  con  be,  considering  that  the  good,  and  wise,  and  clever, 
and  pleasant  owner  of  Burnleigh  House  can  no  more  be 
seen  m  the  body,  and  perhaps  she  would  rather  not  sea 
bis  ghost,  which  I  am  not  clear  about  neither  mysel£" 


1 


84S 


BOMI  AHO  TUB  ABBIT. 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 


Than  li  •  word 
We  all  h*T«  heard. 

And  ndljr  tail  the  ipell  | 
In  loTing  woe, 
Til  learned  below. 

Where  aU  mait  bid  ••  ftreweU  I" 

Tai  lamented  Mr.  Everard,  in  leaving  the  Pilgrim-houM 
of  the  Ara  Coeli  in  Rome  for  his  eternal  home  above,  had 
given  the  signal  for  a  general  dispersion  of  its  inmates. 
Hie  immediate  preparations  for  Lord  Elverton's  depar* 
ture  for  India  w«re  now  completed,  and  a  long  farewell 
was  to  be  given  to  his  once  only  child,  the  recluse  Geral* 
dine,  and  to  his  young  son  and  heir,  whose  destiny  bore 
too  brilliant  an  appearance  in  his  native  country  for  him 
to  lose  the  home  education  which  would  endear  that 
country  to  him,  and  malce  him  be  claimed  and  loved  by 
that  country  as  a  thorough  Englishman.  Tlie  last  day  in 
Rome  had  now  arrived,  and  Lord  Eiverton  mounted  to 
lus  daughter's  rooms  to  exchange  some  questions  and  re* 
plieu  respecting  her  future  homo  in  Italy  and  in  England. 
"  I  have  moro  leisure  this  aftem.on/'  said  he,  on  seating 
himself  at  the  grating,  "  than  I  Iiave  had  any  day  during 
the  past  month  and  with  whom  coiild  I  so  well  spend 
these  my  last  hours  as  with  you,  m)  dear  child  ?  I  wish 
also  to  be  perfectly  sssured  that  you  are  doing  right  ir 
leaving  these  rooms  and  this  roof;  and  wish  to  know 
preoiaely,  what  is  to  be  the  religious  tie  between  your 


m-houM 

ove,had 

inmates. 

s  depar* 

farewell 

«  Geralo 

ny  bore 

for  hira 

)ar  that 

)ved  by 

t  day  in 

inted  to 

I  aiid  re> 

ingland. 

seating 

during 

spend 

I  wish 

'ight  ir 

know 

your 


KOm   AHD  TBI   ABUT. 


9«t 


■elf  and  tbe  Princess  V.,  which  soems  to  afford  her  so 
much  happiness!" 

**  I  leave  these  rooms  and  this  roof,"  replied  the  Beli- 
gious,  "  because  1  find  that  the  character  of  a  Pilgrim* 
house  is  fast  mei^.t^g  into  thnt  of  a  respectable  hotel. 
The  ^ious  projector  las  over-houaed  himself,  and  cannot 
afforu  to  receive  only  the  cle:^.  Your  occupation  of 
the  best  suite  of  rooms,  which  we  were  led  to  believe 
was  a  necessary  concession  to  the  pecuniary  difficulties  of 
the  first  experimental  year,  is  to  be  a  precedent,  not  as 
exception.  We  have  also  no  hope  of  retaining  the  pri* 
vate  staircase  and  entrance,  or  the  services  of  the  female 
portress.  These  are  the  expellent  motives.  Our  motives 
of  attraction  are,  the  peacefiil  quality  of  a  private  roof 
and  the  roof  of  a  widow  consecrated  to  God,  who  having, 
during  some  years,  desired  to  found  in  Rome  a  branch 
house  of  the  Pious  Teachers,  entitled  '  Of  the  Most  Pre. 
oioud  Blood,'  whose  rule  is  to  have  a  body  of  Recluses 
within  themselves ;  and  knowing  that  our  aim  is  to  found 
a  Rec'.dse  Community,  having  an  active  body  of  Pious 
Teachers  within  ourselves,  hat.  proposed  to  divide  a  house 
and  garden  into  three  parts,  of  which  one  part  will  be  for 
herself,  the  Princess  Mary,  and  ladies  of  their  suite." 

"  But  is  there  not  danger  of  your  becoming  involved 
in  a  union  which  you  cannot  afterwards  easily  dissolve  V* 
said  Lord  Elvc-rton. 

"  I  have  always  been  perfectly  candid  with  the  Prin- 
cess,"  replied  the  Religioub,  -'  in  stating  that  I  could  only 
accept  her  hospitality  for  a  limited  time ;  but  as  she  is 
eontent  to  take  ita  oa  our  own  terms,  I  hope  wo  shall 
tarry  our  plans  into  execution.     We  shall  have  a  private 


844 


BOMB  AND  THE  ABBCT. 


di&pcl,  with  every  possible  privilege  attached  to  it,  and 
shall  therefore  at  length  keep  enclosure,  and  begin  tc 
practise  the  life  of  tho  Benedictine  Solitaries  of  Jesui 
and  Mary." 

"  And  you  have  obtained  permission,"  further  inquired 
his  Lordship,  "to  clothe  the  first  Novices  of  the  Ordot 
in  Rome  r 

"  I  have,"  returned  she ;  "  his  Holiness  has  given  his 
full  consent  and  benediction  on  our  commencement  in 
Borne,  provided  England  be  kept  in  view." 

«  That  is  right  \—all  then  is  right  1"  said  Lewd  Elver- 
ton,  with  cordial  satisfaction.  "  The  voice  of  the  Pope 
b  the  voice  of  God !  I  leave  you  now  without  anxiety, 
although,  in  my  advancing  years,  our  parlSug  »ray  be  for 
ever  in  our  mortal  state ;  and  as  I  may  ne^  r  no  .n  speak 
thus  feoe  to  face,  let  me  tell  my  loved  Geraldine  that  I 
honour  her  perseverance,  I  respect  her  piety,  and  I  have 
»  satisfied  paternal  feeling  tlaat  she  wUl  be  among  the 
iewels  of  her  Saviour's  crowu  t" 

Another  hour  passed,  at  the  end  of  which  the  con- 

■ecrated  Daughter  received  her  Father's  blessing,  and 

■whUe  she  kissed  his  hand,  felt  that  his  lips  were  pressed 

on  her  veil;  and  that  emotion,  powerful  as  her  own, 

moved  his  aged  breast  to  sighs,  as  he  turned  from  the 

opened  trellis  to  leave  the  room,  and  she  heard  his  foot- 

steps  no  more.    "  How  often,"  thought  she, "  has  it  been 

in  the  order  of  Divine  Providence  that  we  should  part 

as  if  for  ever,  yet  have  we  met  again.    But  now  I  dare 

only  make  this  prayer — ^may  satisfied  ambition  cause 

satiety  of  worldly  honour  and  applause— may  all  theii 

l^ded  hoUowness  be  proved— may  that  majesticallj 

Qoary  head  wear  an  eternal  crown  1" 


)  It,  and 
bugin  tc 
[>f  Jesua 

inquired 
le  Ordoi 

given  his 
lement  in 

rd  Elver- 
the  Pope 
t  anxiety, 
ay  Ije  for 
;;^in  speak 
line  that  I 
wd  I  have 
mong  the 

h  thecon- 


ssing, 


and 


re  pressed 
her  own, 
from  the 
'd  his  foot- 
has  it  been 
hould  part 
Qow  I  dare 
tion  causa 
y  all  theif 
[lajestioRllj 


BOMB  AHD  TBI  ABBIOr. 


84f 


Her  next  visitor  was  one  almost  equally,  though  dif 
%rcntly,  d«ar,  the  young  Letitia,  who  came  accompanied 
Ks  usual,  but  who  contrived  to  whisper  a  request  to  hor 
sister  that  she  would,  as  if  from  herself,  send  away  the 
three  attendants.  TWs  was  soon  accomplished ;  and  Lj 
titia,  flinging  her  arms  around  her  sister's  neck,  with  no 
compassion  towards  the  starched  linen  guimpe,  hugged 
and  wept,  and  at  length  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  if  you  were  but 
going  with  «ne !  What  a  pity  you  are  a  Nun !  You 
cannot  come  to  India ;  I  do  not  intend  ever  to  be  a  Nun. 
Perhaps,  if  you  ask  the  Pope,  he  will  let  you  come  with 
us;  and  you  can  convert  all  the  black  slaves  to  be 
Christians.    Will  you  1    Now  do  say  '  yes'." 

"There  is  no  time  left  me  now  to  pack  up  ana  go  to 
India,"  swd  the  Religious,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  /will  wait  for  you !"  cried  Letitia,  "  and  so  will 
Miss  Pollard.  We  have  already  seen  all  the  ohurchea 
in  Naples,  and  Papa  and  Mamma  will  be  there  £  week ; 
and  you  will  not  want  a  whole  week  to  pack  up  your 
trunks.    Oh,  do  say  •  yes  !' " 

"  I  cannot  say  yes,"  said  the  Religious, "  to  going  where 
Almighty  God  does  not  send  me.  I  could  not  be  happy, 
nor  could  I  make  you  happy,  dearest  child ;  for  our  hap> 
pinesH  call  only  truly  be  in  fulfilling  the  will  of  God." 

"■  Then  Nuns  cannot  go  to  India  1"  said  Letitia,  sorrow* 

fiiUy. 

"  Yes,  Nuns  can  go,  and  have  already  gone  to  India, 
because  such  was  their  mission :  Gcod  sent  them  there,* 
replied  the  Religious. 

"  Now  how  could  they  know  tiat  God  sent  them 
thera,"  inquired  Letitia, "  when  you  must  not  go,  sLrtw  V 
16* 


r  .^jMWBiteiiirir'-f  IffTmriHilf  a«M 


S4« 


ROlfB   AND  THB   ABBIT. 


"There  are  three  ways,  dear  child,"  replied  the  Relt 
gioiis,  "  of  ascertaining  the  adorable  will  of  God— Direct 
Inspiration,  Command  of  Superiors,  and  the  Order  c»l 
Divine  Providence,  which  so  disposes  events  that  a  good 
work  can  be  undertaken  and  carried  through  with  success. 
The  Nuns  established  in  Calcutta  had  all  these  proofs  that 
their  undertaking  was  pleasing  to  God ;  and  I  hope  that 
my  little  sister  will  become  well  acquainted  with  them." 
"  But  I  cannot  become  a  Nun,"  said  Letitia,  "  because 
of  a  very  particular  obstacle,  which  is,  that  I  intend  to 
be  married." 

"  A  very  sufficient  obstacle,  indeed !"  said  her  sister, 
smiling ;  "  so  I  must  pray  that  you  may  make  a  good 
choice,  and  become  an  exemplary  wife." 

"  Papa  and  Mamma  have  already  chosen  for  me,"  said 
Letitia;  "and  I  have  told  Donna  Candida  and  my  Go- 
yemess;  but  not  my  maids,  because  it  would  be  an 
indiscreet  condescension :  but  of  course  I  shall  tell  you, 
particularly  as  I  am  going  away  lor  so  long  a  t?.7ie.  They 
have  chosen  Count  Arthur  de  Gr6y,  which  makes  me 
very  happy,  because  he  means  to  be  a  soldier.  But  most 
likely  Mamma  has  already  told  you  all  this,  because 
Count  Arthur  is  your  adopted  son.— Oh,  here  is  Donna 
Candida  come  back  so  very  soon  to  fetch  me !  Poor 
Donna  Candida !  she  is  not  going  to  India :  how  much  I 
pity  her !  But  it  is  her  own  choice.  She  means  to  live 
and  die  in  Rome." 

"Yes,"  said  Donna  Candida;  "England,  Spain,  and 
India  were  offered  me  by  my  Lord  and  Lady ;  but  I  have 
chosen  Rome  in  which  to  pass  the  remnant  of  mj  days  j 
and  if  lean  be  of  any  use  to  Lady  de  Grey  in  the  mode 


ROUE    AND   THK   ABBKT. 


S47 


J  have  been,  she  has  but  to  command  my  poor  services. 
I  am  to  continue  in  this  Palazzo,  though  all  I  love  will 
have  left  it.  But  to  this  desertion  Almighty  God  has 
accustomed  me  by  taking  from  me  my  husband  and  all 
my  eight  children,  and  bidding  me  live  in  heart  and 
apirit  in  the  unseen  world  above.  Where,  then,  could  1 
so  well  exist  as  in  Rome  1  But  now.  Donna  Letitia,  you 
must  give  your  last  embrace  to  your  Reverend  Sister 
oad  ask  her-blessing,  for  I  have  let  you  stay  to  the  last 
moment." 

But  Donna  Candida  had  yet  to  wait  awWle ;  for  the 
parting  embrace  affected  both  elder  and  younger  sister, 
and  there  were  keepsakes  and  last  words  to  exchange, 
and  admonitions  and  blessings.  At  length  the  little  form 
of  Letitia  was  seen  no  more ;  and  the  Recluse  had  turned 
in  supplication  for  her  to  the  oratory,  when  a  written 
request  was  brought  from  Count  Arthur  de  Grey  to  pay 
his  parting  visit  in  half  an  hour. 

The  interval  that  had  elapsed  between  Arthur's  disap- 
pointment  respecting  Lilia  and  his  betrothal  to  Letitia, 
had  been,  as  to  most  young  Frenchmen,  a  dreary  waste, 
in  which  his  chief  solace  had  been  the  gentle  sympathy 
of  Lady  Elverton ;  and  so  constantly  did  the  young 
Count  recur  to  this  balm,  that  Lord  Elverton,  who  at 
first  smUed,  and  called  him  the  •  Fredolin,'  began  to  look 
grave,  and  at  length  said,  "  Beatrice,  is  it  on  the  eve  of 
leaving  my  native  land,  perhaps  for  ever,  that  I  am  to 
fiitd  I  have  married  too  young  a  wife  1" 

The  next  discovery  was  that  Count  Arthur  dwelt  on 
the  prophetic  speech  of  Mr.  Everard,  and  feeling  ihat 
Franoe  England,  and  all  Europe  would  be  a  blank  wiUv 


^■^■^    .i  \^ 


wr 


m, 


148 


BOIUe    AKD  TBK   ABBST. 


out  the  family  of  Lord  Elverton,  tlcsircd  to  go  to  India 
as  one  of  his  Lordship's  aides-de^:amp,  and  very  fortu< 
natel)'  had  received  a  hint  from  a  matual  friend  to  meib 
tion  the  yr:'"«r  Letitia.  Affairs  being  happily  settled 
with  his  Lordship,  Arthur  de  Grey  imparted  his  happy 
though  distant  prospects  to  his  benefactress,  the  Recluse, 
and  was  further  comforted  by  her  full  approbation.  Ilia 
lost  visit  was  now  paid,  and  his  grateful  tarewell  was 
joined  to  promises  that  she  should  hear  of  him  as  the 
'  Chevalier  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche.'  "  Lord  Elvertou 
has  asked  me,"  said  he,  "  whether,  on  coming  of  age,  I 
should  wish  to  have  the  English  baronetcy  revived  in  my 
person ;  but  I  told  his  Lordship  not  until  I  had  won  my 
spurs  of  gallant  knighthood,  and  had  heard  the  words 
♦  Arise,  Sir  Arthur  de  Grey !' " 

By  noon  on  the  following  day  all  the  Anglo-Indian 
party  were  on  the  road  to  Naples,  and  our  Recluse  and 
her  little  company  were  occupied  in  removing  also  from 
the  Locanda  to  the  monastic  building  taken  by  the  Prin- 
cess, a  third  part  of  which,  being  grated  from  the  rest  of 
the  house,  she  had  devoted  to  the  service  of  the  English 
Religious.  But  they  had  also  a  house  provided  for  them 
in  the  country,  by  the  same  zealous  and  pious  friend,  and 
accordingly,  after  making  their  domestic  arrangement 
in  the  Vicolo  degli  Avignonesi  for  the  winter,  they  re- 
moved to  the  pure  air  and  lovely  scenery  of  Albano 
during  the  summer  and  autumh,  where,  although  they 
kept  not  enclosure,  they  enjoyed  the  peaceful  solitude  of 
their  vocation.  The  church  of  St  Paul  was  their  morUf 
lug  pilgrimage  for  the  early  devotions  of  the  Missionary 
Fathers  entitlsd  '  of  the  Most  Precious  Blood,'  followed 


ROHC   AND  TBS  JUBBIT. 


849 


by  II  editation,  Mass,  and  Holy  Communion,  with  »  second 
Mass  of  thanksgiving :  in  the  evening  the  same  walk  was 
performed  for  a  second  meditation  and  adoration  of  the 
Holy  Sacr&ment  j  after  which  they  recreated  themselves 
by  extending  their  walk  to  the  beautiful  lake,  where  all 
that  is  lovely  has  assembled;  and  Lilia,  who  had  never 
seen  the  lake  of  Nemi,  termed  'L'Allegro,'  wondered 
that  this  uf  Albano  should,  in  contradistinction,  be  called 
•  n  Penseroso,'  which  to  the  Italian  mind  conveys  not 
only  thoughtfiUness  but  melancholy.  To  our  English 
group,  seated  on  the  banks  of  turf  and  wild  flowers, 
whether  they  turned  to  Caatel  Gondolfo,  in  its  feudal 
strength  on  the  more  rocky  elevation  from  the  lake,  or 
watched  the  silent  friars  wending  their  way  fix>m  tfieir 
own  near  monastery  through  the  copsewood  round  the 
south  end  of  the  lake  to  their  brethren  on  the  side  of 
Monte  Corvo,  or  fixed  their  gaze  on  the  solitary  elevation 
of  the  Passionists  on  its  summit,  all  conveyed  an  im- 
pression of  peaceful,  meditative  life,  apart  from  the 
frenzied  stir  of  this  nineteenth  century. 

Here  at  Albano  our  Pilgrim  received  the  intell^enoe 
erf"  the  death — to  h-^r  how  great  a  death — of  his  Eminence 
Cardinal  Acton.  He  had  left  Rome  for  Naples  at  the 
end  of  May,  then  crossed  to  Sicily,  but  after  a  short  time 
returned  to  NajJes,  to  the  College  of  Nobles,  governed 
by  the  Jesuit  Fathers,  to  whom  he  had  been  ever  so 
much  attached ;  and  there,  on  the  27th  of  June,  he  ex- 
pired, having  with  difficulty  been  made  aware  that  he 
was  actually  dying,  but  receiving  the  intelligence  as  • 
Saint,  and  preserving  his  senses  through  idl  the  kit 
Mored  rites  of  the  Church. 


wmt-j 


too 


BOm  ABD  TBM  ABBIT. 


**  Alas !  alas  !"  cried  the  bereaved  Pilgrim,  "  It  seeing 
irhen  saying  the  '  De  Profimdis,'  that  no  one  has  ever 
died  but  Cardinal  Acton !" 

So  general  was  the  persuasion  of  the  holiness  of  his  lift 
from  boyhood,  that  she  dreaded  lest  his  precious  soul 
might  be  detained  from  glory  through  want  of  suffrages ; 
but  she  recalled  with  consolation  his  Eminence  having 
once  told  her,  smiling,  "  When  I  die,  I  shall  have,  from 
the  Franciscan  Order  alone,  eleven  thousand  Masses 
offered  for  me,  being  the  protector  of  the  Franciscan 
Order." 

Towards  the  end  of  October  Miss  Graham  paid  a  short 
visit  to  Albano,  on  her  way  to  Naples  and  Sicily.  She 
had  spent  that  summer  in  the  north  of  Italy,  and  pro- 
posed to  pass  the  ensuing  winter  in  some  chosen  spot  on 
the  bay  of  Naples,  probably  in  Sorento,  or  Castellamare. 
She  had  been  blessed  with  success  in  the  conversion  ot 
both  her  Scotch  servants,  and  was  in  high  spirits,  espe> 
dally  as  John  Todd,  her  hereditary  retainer,  who  had 
been  ever  *  weel  respeckit,'  had  declared  his  intention  to 
become  one  of  the  *  Christian  Brothers'  in  London. 

"  In  my  winter  nook,"  said  she  at  parting,  "  I  shall 
ruminate  over  my  summer  rambles,  and  shall  also  watch 
the  course  of  national  and  political  events.  I  do  not  pre* 
tend  to  be  a  Religious  Solitary,  therefore,  not  to  mislead 
people  by  my  retired  life,  I  give  out  publicly  that  I  like 
the  world  as  long  as  it  is  at  a  distance — that  is,  through 
the  medium  of  newspapers,  reviews,  and  even  letters,  ii 
from  chosen  pens.  This  is  the  first  step  to  withdrawing 
from  the  world — that  is,  the  prattling,  visiting;  ostenta 
tious  world,  altogether." 


mmmit%; 


BOUS  Ain>  Tin  ABBCr. 


asi 


"  it  8eeiD% 
e  has  evef 

39  of  his  lift 
ecioua  soul 
f  suffrages ; 
ooe  having 
have,  from 
ind  Masses 
Franciscan 

paid  a  short 
licily.  She 
y,  and  pro* 
■sen  spot  on 
istellaniare. 
inversion  Oi 
pirits,  espe< 
T,  who  had 
intention  to 
indon. 

g,  <'  I  shaU 
[  also  watch 
'.  do  not  pre* 
.  to  mislead 
r  that  I  like 
is,  through 
1  letters,  ii 
rithdrawing 
ng^  ostenta 


Kalherine  had  scarcely  departed  when  Lilia's  destined 
Bister  in  the  noviciate  arrived  from  England,  and  ouf 
little  party  retimied  to  Rome,  where,  by  degrees,  they 
obtained  to  the  private  chapel  l^neath  their  roof  every 
monasiio  permission.  This  long  desired  privilege  of  en- 
closure was  to  the  two  Religious,  and  even  to  Lilia,  such 
consolation  that  the  return  to  Ikigland  ceased  to  be  the 
constant  theme  of  their  recreation,  and  Rome  was  gra- 
dually  loved;  not  only  as  the  holy  capital  of  Christendom, 
but  as  their  home.  Lilia  kept  the  secret  confided  to  her 
by  Ferdinand,  of  his  power  and  will  to  make  over  the 
ancient  premises  of  London  Abbey  to  his  sister  and  her 
Community,  not  being  aware  that  this  honourable  secrecy, 
fh>m  which  an  interchange  of  letters  through  Mr.  Tern- 
son  would  have  freed  her,  was  prolonging  the  suspense 
and  load  of  care  respecting  the  foundation  in  England, 
which  a  timely  confidence  would  have  removed  f5pom  the 
mind  of  her  Religious  relative. 

Hie  pious  and  zealous  Princess  V.  had  now  realized 
her  long-cherished  idea  of  assembling  under  the  same 
roof  the  seven  Dedications  to  God,  which  she  called  her 
'  seven-branched  candlestick :'— First,  Priesthood ;  second. 
Consecrated  Virginity ;  third,  Devput  Widowdood ;  fourth, 
Adoration;  fiflh.  Science;  sixth,  Instruction;  seventh. 
Charity.  Her  pmotical  arrangements  were  equally  suo> 
cessAiI,  and  a  most  harmonious  »ni  happy  household 
remained  together  during  the  ensuing  winter  of  1^7. 
Tlie  principal  source  of  pious  recreation  to  our  Reclusei 
was  ftom  the  instructive  conversation  of  the  past  and 
present  diaphiins,  the  Abb^s  Gerbet  and  Martet :  the 
fcrmer  ever  feitile  in  his  comments  on  the  antiquitiei 


■ft 


ass 


BOMB  AND  TBI  ABBKT. 


and  history  of  Christian  Rome,  a  discourse  retrospective } 
the  latter  never  wearied  in  imparting  to  them  his  learned 
calculations  on  the  sacred  -names  in  Scripture,  with  hii 
prophetic  views  tor  Europe,  and  especially  for  iiume. 
On  the  great  festivals  all  the  pious  inmates  of  the  mo- 
nastic dwelling  were  admitted  to  the  enclosure  of  the 
Recluses.  The  two  young  pupils  of  the  Abb^  Gerbet, 
the  adopted  sisters  of  the  Duchesse  de  F  ,  lovely  by 
nature  and  gi-ace,  sweet  Evodie  and  Prisca,  and  the 
warm-hearted  Princess  Mary,  and  the  equally  zealous 
and  afiectionate  Signora  Camilla,  and  the  pious  teachers 
(le  Maestre  Pie)  of  the  Poor  iSchool,  and  the  faithful 
friend  and  economist,  the  reverend  Director  of  the  pious 
Union,  Dom  Pietro  G.,  and  the  ever  welcome,  the  holy 
Bishop  Pompallier,  who,  being  already  a  public  charac- 
ter, must  consent,  like  the  cardinals  and  the  authors,  to 
see  his  name  here  at  lull  length.  In  these  holy  day  meet- 
ings the  Princess  Zeneide,  who  had  been  the  prime 
mover  of  the  Union,  was  also  the  life  of  their  recreation. 
From  time  to  time  our  senior  Recluse  saw  the  worthy 
Donna  Candida,  and  still  accepted  her  services  when 
necessity  obliged  her  to  seek  her  ecclesiastical  superior 
Cardinal  Fransoue,  at  the  Sacred  College  of  the  Propa- 
ganda Fide.  His  Eminence,  however,  when  °  not  indis- 
posed, paid  his  vidits  most  willingly  to  the  saloon  of  the 
Princesses,  and  to  the  enclosure  of  his  spiritual  daughters. 
Ihus  passed  the  winter,  when  circumstances  of  impera- 
tive necessity  led  our  Recluse  to  solicit  Donna  Candida 
to  arrange  with  her  own  Confessor,  Father  Duago,  to 
appoint  an  hour  when  the  English  Religious  could  speak 
to  aim  at  the  Spaaiah  Confeerional  in  the  chuich  of  the 
Jttuit  Fatheire.  . 


■MB  ▲>»  TU 


respective } 
hift  iearned 
■e,  with  hia 
for  ikume. 
of  the  mo- 
sure  of  the 
ib^  Gerbet, 
•,  lovely  by 
»,  and  the 
lly  zealous 
IS  teachers 
;he  faithful 
»f  the  pious 
e,  the  holy 
)lio  charao- 
Buthors,  to 
yday  meet- 
the  prime 
recreation, 
the  worthy 
rioes  when 
il  superior 
the  Propa- 
not  indis- 
loon  of  the 
daughters, 
of  impera- 
na  Candida 
Duago,  to 
iould  speak 
irdiof  tin 


CHAPTER  XXZin. 

0«ii  li  ■  pllKhtad  pUf  rimaga, 

Togtthrr,  yet  alone  j 
With  ipiriU  of  the  elr  we  ung* 

A  battle  for  a  throne. 

Take  eonrage,  Allow  pilgrim,  ■■• 

The  mjrrladi  abovok 
Wboea  hearti,  from  earthly  tiae  aet  tim, 
,Now  beat  eternal  lore ! 

Oim  Religious  Pilgrim,  finding  that  the  arrangement  bad 
been  made  for  her  desired  consultation  with  the  Ecolesi- 
•Stic  who  alone  was  in  possession  of  several  fhcts  iin- 
portant  for  her  to  know,  went  on  the  appointed  morning 
with  D<«na  Candida  to  the  church  of  the  GesA,  and  was 
oonducted  to  the  Spanish  Confessional.  After  receiving 
the  blessing,  and  repeating  the  Confiteor,  she  said,  «  Am 
I  addressing  Father  Carlos  Duago  1" 

**  You  are,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  do  you  know,  Reverend  Father,  who  she  is  who 
now  addresses  you,  for  this  is  essential  before  proceed- 
ir^fiirtherr 

"  I  do,  perfectly,"  said  he.  "  Are  you  come  to  me  for 
confession,  or  merely  to  speak  to  me  under  the  seal  ol 
confession  1" 

"  At  this  time  I  am  come  simply  for  the  latter,"  re^ 
plied  she.  You  are  acquainted  with  all  the  eircunistanoes 
attending  the  restoration  of  Catholic  privileges  in  the 
ndo^d  Abbe^  of  Ehrertoo.    Yen  know  the  looalitj—^he 


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ROm  AND  THE  ABBKT. 


wants  of  the  place — ^you  have  had  experience  of  the  di» 
position  of  the  Bishop.  You  know  exteriorly  the  manj 
spiritual  privileges  1  have  received  in  connection  with 
that  neighbourhood :  that  it  was  at  Elverton  Hall  I  be- 
came virtually  a  Catholic,  although,  at  my  father's  re> 
quest,  my  abjuration  was  made  in  London ;  and  that, 
although  I  went  to  Ireland  for  my  noviciate  and  holy 
profession,  yet  it  was  to  Elverton  Abbey  I  returned  to 
labour  in  the  ar  ive  religious  life.  It  was  there  I  be- 
held in  my  cell  the  miraculous  appearance  of  the  most 
Holy  Sacrament,  and  in  its  ample  bosom  can  be  con- 
tained a  community  sufficiently  numerous  to  supply  the 
Perpetual  Adoration.  Do  you  not  consider  these  to  be 
visible  tokens  by  which,  without  seeking  extraordinary 
manifestations  of  the  Divine  will,  I  may  conclude  the 
Abbey  at  Elverton  to  be  the  spot  destined  to  receive 
the  Institute  now  forming  of  the  union  of  the  Contem« 
plative  and  Active  life.  Yet  my  mind,  which  was  made 
up  to  await  a  solution  of  many  difficulties  attendant  on 
this  belief,  was  a  few  days  ago  impressed  with  the  su- 
pernatural intimation  of  a  contrary  design  of  Divine 
Providence.  Which  I  am  to  consider  the  truth,  and 
which  the  temptation,  I  know  not.  It  was  after  Hoi/ 
Communion,  when,  returning  my  thanksgiving,  I  sud- 
denly knew  that  not  the  Abbey  of  Elverton,  but  the 
capital  of  England — London,  was  first  to  receive  and 
bring  to  perfection  the  Religious  Solitaries  and  Hand- 
maids of  Jesus ;  and  this  sudden  knowledge  I  received 
at  the  moment  with  perfect  acquiescence,  calm,  and 
efaeerJulness.  The  following  morning  after  Holy  Com- 
municn  I  as  suddenly  and  distinoily  knew  who  would  be 


trnXiJim 


ROUX  AND  TBI  IBBET. 


9M 


/ 


tho  chief  beno&ctors;  and  yesterday  I  received  an  in. 
Kmation  of  the  reluctance  of  the  Vicar  Apostolic  of  the 
district  in  which  Elverton  is  situated  to  be  the  first  to 
protect  the  Institute,  although  his  lordship  will  probably 
not  object  to  do  so  when  its  success  has  been  proved 
elsewhere." 

The  Eeligious  now  paused,  and  Father  Duago  said, 
**  You  have  omitted  an  important  part  in  assigning  the 
reasons  which'  may  preponderate  in  favour  of  the  belief 
that  you  will  not  return  to  Elverton.    You  have  omitted 
to  state  that  at  the  time  you  were  vainly  endeavouring 
to  promote  the  desire  for  the  Perpetual  Adoration  in  the 
Sisterhood  established  in  the  Abbey,  one  morning,  when 
preparing  to  descend  from  your  cell  to  the  church  for 
holy  Mass  and  Communion,  a  voice  spoke  within  you, 
saying,  '  Leave  this  /-^Jbllow  my  graeeP    You  have  left 
Elverton  Abbey.     You  have,  we  may  humbly  hope,  fol- 
lowed  tho  grace  which  has  led  you  to  found  the  proposed 
holy  Institute  ;  and  therefore  the  information  you  have 
now  given  me  of  these  fresh  inspirations,  leads  me  to 
conclude  that  you  will  never  return  to  the  neighbourhood 
of  your  home." 

Tlie  Religious  could  not  for  some  instants  reply. 
Filled  with  awe  and  gratitude  to  find  her  present  guide 
■upematurally  illuminated,  she  at  length  said,  "I  am 
prepared  for  the  sacrifice." 

"  When  Abraliam  was  chosen  to  be  the  Father  of  a 
new  race,  a  peculiar  people."  continued  Father  Duago, 
"  God  did  not  say  to  him.  Plant  here,  amid  thy  kindred, 
and  in  thy  father's  house,  my  chosen  people !  You  know 
well  that  He  said  to  him,  and  He  also  says  thus  to  all 


S66 


ROME    AND    THE    ABOET. 


Religious,  '  Got  thee  forth  from  thine  own  country,  and 
Com  thy  kindred,  and  from  thy  father's  house,  and  come 
into  a  land  timt  I  shall  show  thee." 

"  All  this,  by  God's  grace,  I  can  renounce,"  said  she ; 
"  but  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  conceive  why  1  have  been 
permitted  to  be  the  instrument  of  so  much  benefit  to  the 
Abbey,  and  am  now  to  leave  the  work  incomplete." 

"  You  have  done  all  that  was  required  by  him  who 
was  the  possessor,"  said  Father  Duago.  "  The  Abbey 
belonged  to  the  De  Greys,  not  to  the  Carringtons.  Sir 
Eustace  gave  the  preference  to  the  Active  Community 
who  have  now  possession,  and  never  contemplated  any 
further  occupation  of  the  place  by  Religious  Women." 

"  And  yet  the  Abbey,  and  Abbey  lands,"  said  she, 
"  were  originally  given  by  an  Arthur  De  Grey  to  the 
Cistercian  Monks,  who  follow  most  rigidly  the  rule  of 
St.  Benedict.  The  Monks  could  not  return  because  the 
lands  which  once  employed  them  in  manual  labour,  ac- 
cording to  their  vocation,  have  long  since  passed  into 
other  hands ;  but  the  Nuns  of  the  Perpetual  Adoration, 
under  that  rule,  might  still  be  there  established." 

"  You  must  discard  that '  idea,"  said  Father  Duago. 
"  It  is  true  that  great  part  of  the  ruin  remains  unoccupied, 
but  it  is  at  once  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  decayed. 
It  is  valued  for  its  picturesque  effect  by  those  who  do  not 
understand  what  is  meant  even  by  the  Perpetual  Adora- 
tion. You  must  once  have  been  aware,  but  have  forgot- 
ten, that  when  the  corporation  of  the  city  of  Elverton 
resigned  the  ruin  to  the  descendant  of  its  ancient  posses- 
iiors,  it  was  not  only  at  a  very  high  cost  in  money,  but 
also  on  condition  that  no  buildings  raised  within  the  wolli 


L>    1^ 


J. 


HOME   AND  TBI  ABBKT. 


M 


Aoviii  appear.  This  precaution  does  not  remain  a  dead 
letter.  You  can  recal  your  own  disappointment,  when, 
on  your  return  from  Ireland,  you  found  how  confined 
'  wei-e  the  dimensions  of  the  convent  erected  within  the 
Abbey  walls.  I  have  ascertained,  with  the  purpose  of 
conveying,  if  necessary,  the  intelligence  to  yoa,  that  the 
Protestant  corporation  will  concede  no  more ;  that  the 
present  Community  are  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  build- 
ing-space  permitted  them,  and  that  it  were  loss  of  time 
and  thought  to  cling  to  any  hope  of  developing  your  In- 
stitute on  that  spot. — Almighty  God,"  continued  Fathei 
Duago,  "has  shown  you  great  predilection,  especially  in 
having  bestowed  on  you  a  spirit  of  renouncement,  to 
which  gift  you  have  been  faithful  from  an  early  age.  Yet 
now,  after  heroic  sacrifices  for  His  love,  you  cling  to  this 
Abbey  ruin !  There  can  be  no  real  spiritual  tie  in  this, 
and  you  must  forget  all  else !  What  can  the  ties  of  sen* 
timent  or  affection  avail  towards  the  dead,  as  towards  the 
living,  against  the  will  of  God !" 

The  Religious  understood  the  reference  here  made  to 
him  who  lay  in  the  vault  beneath  the  Abbey  chapel,  but 
she  relied  not,  and  Father  Duago  continued,  "  God  haa 
prepared  you  by  many  sacrifices  to  do  great  things  for 
Him.  Humble  yourself  for  all  your  unworthiness,  but 
do  not  on  that  account  stifle  the  inspirations  given  you  to 
plant  your  Religious  Institute  with  all  the  dignity  becom- 
ing its  principal  devotion.  A  time  is  fast  approaching  of 
great  temporal  calamities  on  Catholic  nations.  Whom 
the  Lord  loves  He  chastens.  And  in  the  midst  of  this 
ilmost  universal  upturning  of  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth, 
the  light  of  His  Presence  will  be  raised  in  London !" 


-Jl. 


8» 


ROm   AND  TBI    ABBET. 


Father  Duago  spoke  with  the  tone  of  ceitaintjr,  and 
even  of  authority ;  and  this  coincidence  with  the  secrrt 
impressions  received  by  herself  brought  conviction  to 
the  mind  of  the  Religious.  "  Reverend  Father,  I  accept 
as  tiuth  the  inspirations  confirmed  by  you,"  said  :she. 
"  One  difficulty  alone  remains.  Will  the  present  eccle- 
siastical  authorities  m  London  be  ever  likely  to  compre- 
hend the  designs  of  Almighty  God  in  my  regard  ?" 

"  Await  here  in  Rome,"  replied  the  Reverend  Father, 
"until  many  changes  amongst  the  Vicars  Apostolic  in  En- 
gland  shall  enable  you  to  found  the  Institute  in  London." 
*'  I  have  sometimes  thought,"  said  she,  "  that  in  Rome 
I  might  end  my  days,  and  that  God  would  require  of  mo 
no  more  than  the  committing  to  paper  the  theory  of  the 
Religious  Institute." 

"  You  can  have  no  reasonable  motive  to  indulge  that 
thought,"  said  Father  Duago.  "Seek  not  for  much 
peace,  but  for  much  patience." 

"  I  have  now  to  request  you,  Reverend  Father,"  said 
she,  "  to  become  my  extraordinary  Confessor  and  Spl- 
ritual  Director !  I  will  give  you  as  little  troubln  as  I 
can  help,  except  that  at  the  commencementn-that  is, 
when  I  next  request  you  to  meet  me  here— it  will  be  to 
hear  my  general  confession." 

"  I  am  not  prepared  immediately  to  accept  that  office,*' 
said  he,  after  a  pause.     "  Do  you  wish  to  make  to  me 
the  confession  of  your  whole  life  1" 
"I  do,"  replied  she. 

"  1  cannot  give  you  any  reply  at  this  time,"  said  th« 
Reverend  Father ;  "  I  will  intimate  to  you  what  I  maj 
believe  to  b»*  the  will  of  God,  in  a  few  weeks." 


mHmmmmmsmmmmm^ 


.'•fsS*«x^*l 


said 


rOMS  AND  THE   ABBET. 


tst 


"  A  few  weeks !"  repeated  she ;  "  I  may  want  your 
•nlightened  counsels  before  then.  Can  you,  not  accept 
me  for  your  penitent  after  you  have  oiTered  the  holy  sa- 
crifice three  days  successively  for  that  intention  ?" 

"  You  must  permit  me,"  said  he,  "  to  follow  in  this 
a  deliberate,  not  a  precipitate  course,  leaving  intervals 
of  thought  and  prayer  between  the  Masses ;  while  on 
your  part  (although  I  conclude  you  have  already  com- 
mended this  to  God)  you  will  perhaps  consent  to  repeat 
daily  one  of  the  hymns  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  offer  the 
intention  of  throe  Masses  and  Communions  for  thai 
which  you  propose."  Then,  giving  his  benediction.  Fa- 
ther Duago  shut  the  inner  door  of  the  grating,  and  the 
Religious,  accompanied  by  Donna  Candida,  retired  to  her 
usual  nook  in  the  chapel  of  our  Lady,  near  the  high  altar 
of  the  church.  There  she  repeated  the  Invocation  to  the 
Holy  Ghost  just  prescribed  her :  and  there  she  returned 
ner  heartfelt  thanks  to  God — first,  that  He  had  vouch- 
safed to  consecrste  to  Himself,  and  to  endow  with  such 
choice  graces,  her  earliest  friend,  the  first  object  of  her 
young,  innocent  afiection;  and,  secondly,  that  He  had 
permitted  them  after  a  lapse  of  years  to  be  reunited  in  a 
manner  wholly  spiritual.  That  Father  Duago  would 
finally  accept  the  office  of  her  Spiritual  Directo"*  she 
could  not  doubt.  By  the  elevation  and  purity  of  her 
o^n  consecrated  soul  she  judged  of  his;  yet,  ere  she 
finally  left  the  spot  where  prostrate  before  the  Sacra- 
mental Presence  she  had  supplicated  for  this  boon,  she 
made  an  act  of  entire  resignation,  should  the  Reverend 
Father,  at  the  end  of  his  presci'ibed  devotions,  refuse,  in 


860 


BOME  AND  THE  ABBET. 


the  Bpirit  of  total  disengagement,  to  hear  the  reoorda  of 
the  past,  and  direct  the  Aiture  of  her  spiritual  career. 

A  mouth  had  passed,  and  happily  one  of  private  peace 
to  the  English  Beligious,  though  great  were  the  publio 
agitatioaa  around  her,  when  Donna  Candida,  one  day  re- 
turning from  confession,  brought  a  message,  purporting 
that  if  she  could  conveniently  accompany  that  lady  on 
the  next  confession  day.  Father  Duago  would  be  at  lei- 
6ure  to  hear  her.  The  following  week  our  Pilgrim  was 
again  kneeling  in  the  appointed  confessional ;  and  the 
Beverend  Father  said,  "It  is  now  unnecessary  to  inform 
you  to  what  conclusion  my  mind  had  arrived  when  I  seat 
you  the  message  last  week.  This  chief  church  of  the  So- 
cMy  of  Josus  will  be  closed  to-morrow  afternoon,  and 
our  colleges  placed  under  other  Professors.  I  am  to  re- 
turn immediately  to  Eiverton  Hall  to  arrange  all  things 
for  the  reception  of  a  certain  number  of  our  Fathers  and 
tDn  students  of  the  Noble  College.  FerJinand  included, 
and  will  probably  thus  finish  his  education  on  his  future 
property.  Lord  Eiverton  had,  of  course,  foresoeu  the 
direction  of  this  popular  movement,  and  that  we  shoald 
be  the  first  attacked :  he  therefore  left  with  me  papers 
empowering  our  Qeneral  to  make  use  of  the  Hall  as  a  pri- 
vate college,  on  conditions  to  which  he  willingly  acceded.  ** 

When  Father  Duago  paused  the  Religious  said, 
"  Publio  rumors  and  private  conjectures  had  reached 
our  retirement,  and  partly  prepared  me  for  this  an- 
nouncement. You  expect  no  personal  danger  to-mor- 
row, or  in  leaving  Bome  for  England  ?" 

"  None  whatever  at  present,"  replied  he ;  "  wo  ara 
only  in  the  lirst  stage  of  the  popular  progreas." 


L 


iiliiiiiililiit^^ 


V^^\^rvr^':-^;^^ll^ 


BOm    AND   THE   ABBKT. 


861 


*  vf)  ars 


"And  you  doubtless  consider  this  progress,  which  ii» 
»)verfx)wcring  thu  will  of  the  Pope,  to  be  an  evil  ?"  said  she. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  lieverend  Father,  "  I  must  consi- 
der it  to  be  a  great  evil.  We  individually  are  to  glory 
in  our  sufferings ;  but  when  our  Society  is  persecuted,  it 
is  the  signal  for  a  well-known  train  of  evils.  It  is  we 
who  are  first  exiled,  then  the  aristocracy,  then  royalty. 
We  then  see  the  shortlived  display  of  a  republic ;  then 
anarchy,  bloodshed,  and  civil  war !  And  M  tliis  from 
the  false  principle  that  power  emanates  from  the  people." 

"  And  now,"  said  she,  "  that  you  are  to  leave  Rome 
for  an  indefinite  time,  and  I  am  to  remain  for  an  inde- 
finite time,  and  that  Divine  Providence,  which  has  per- 
mitted twice  only  this  interchange  of  speech,  may  never 
will  its  recurrence,  and  that,  by  the  death  of  the 
Cardinal  and  the  loss  of  my  English  Jesuit  Confessor,  I 
am  left  without  guidance,  tell  me  of  some  one  who  will 
be  to  me  a  spiritual  director." 

"  I  cannot,"  said  he — ^"  I  cannot  propose  any  director 
to  you.  Almighty  God  will  Himself  direct  you  as  He 
has  hitherto  done.  Submit  all  inspirations  to  your  ord^ 
nary  Confessor  and  you  will  be  safe." 

•*  And  have  you  yourself  no  parting  advice  to  give  V* 
demanded  she. 

"  Only  this,"  replied  Father  Duago :  "  attempt  not  tc 
hurry  Divine  Providence,  whose  sublime  march  is  slow 
to  our  imaginings.  Be  cautious  of  the  English  in  Rome ; 
have  few  intimates,  and  no  counsellors :  let  any  conjec- 
tures be  formed  sooner  than  that  the  truth  should  prema- 
turely be  known  respecting  the  city  destined  to  receive 
the  Institute:  cast  from  you  tl">  goad  of  solicitude.: 
16 


i 


ses 


ROMI   AND  TBI   ABBXT. 


make  repeated  acts  of  Hope  in  the  sure  promises  of  God. 
Ldfu  seems  long  and  dreary  ;  we  desire  to  labour  no  more 
— we  already  would  gather  in  our  reward  for  all  the  iittl« 
nothings  we  have  done  fur  God  :  and  yet  on  our  death- 
bed we  would  fain  look  back  on  a  long,  full  life,  having 
patiently  awaited  His  good  time :  we  would  then  gladly 
count  up  the  adversities  rather  than  the  prosperities  of 
life ;  the  hours  of  pain  rather  than  those  of  joy  ;  the 
having  severed  the  heart  from  all  creatures,  however 
good  ;  the  having  died  by  faith  to  this  world,  so  that  in 
spirit  we  can  die  no  more."    Father  Duago  then  gave 
the  parting  benediction,  adding,  "  Pray  for  me,  as  I  will 
pray  for  you  ;"  and  the  Religious  Pilgrim,  on  leaving  that 
confessional,  instead  of  approaching  the  high  altar  within 
the  chapel  of  cur  Lady,  as  was  her  wont,  retired  to  the 
further  corner  of  the  church,  by  the  confessional  of  tho 
English  Jesuit  Father,  where,  with  her  tearful  compa* 
nion.  Donna  Candida,  she  sat  beholding  from  her  chosen 
spot  the  whole  scene  of  that  lost  day  of  possession  by  the 
religious  owners  of  the  church  and  college.     She  expe- 
rieuced  no  external  emotion,  no  inclination  to  weep  or 
sigh.     The  agitation  of  the  pious  females  before  her  con- 
tributed, as  was  usually  the  case  with  her,  to  calm  her 
own  feelings ;  yet  it  had  not  been  without  some  sentiment 
of  personal  regret  that  she  had  placed  herself  near  the 
honoured  seat  of  God's  faithful  servant,  her  own  country* 
man,  and  hitherto  Confessor,  who  during  so  many  years 
had  thence  looked  on  that  high  altar,  beholding  the  per- 
fection of  order,  zeal,  and  holy  beauty  there  displayed. 
From  the  side  door  of  the  church  to  the  vestibule  of  the 
aaoristy  was  an  almost  continued  double  line  of  Secular 


ROMB   AMD  TBB  ABBET. 


tea. 


A 


Ecclesiastics  of  the  higher    dignities  in  the  Church. 
Amongsl  those  our  Pilgrim  perceived  Monsignor  Lenti, 
going  to  and  returning  from  his  doily  anxious  inquiries. 
She  Itnew  that  this  estimable  Prolate  took  precisely  the 
same  view  as  did  Father  Duago  of  the  exile  of  the  Jesuit 
lathers  from  Rome,  as  precursivo  of  along  train  of  evils. 
But  it  was  'exile,'  not  'suppression,'  and  our  Pilgrim 
thought  of  the  Mighty  Hand,  over-ruling  evil  for  good, 
that  for  awhile  suffered  the  dispersion  of  these  His  mis. 
sionary  sons  for  the  speedier  conversion  of  nations.    This 
was  a  vast  thought  whicsh  could  not  be  immediately 
grasped :  much  of  actual  evil  must  first  take  place;  and, 
as  she  pondered  over  it,  Donnn  Candida,  who  had  beej 
moving  round  the  church,  returned  to  whisper  to  her 
that  they  had  better  take  ad.'anfage,  with  other  ladies,  of 
leaving  the  church  at  the  same  timS  with  a  Bishop,  who 
was  on  foot  with  his  attendant  priests,  because  she  had 
been  so  advised  by  one  of  the  lay  Sacristans.    This 
advice  was  immediately  followed,  and  they  remained 
kneeling  near  the  side  door  with  other  ladies  until  the 
Bishop  passed  from  the  sacristy;  and  they  followed  in 
his  train,  through  an  ill-humoured  mob,  which  was  but 
thinly  collected  on  that  sido  of  the  church,  but  had  be. 
come  dense  before  the  principal  entmnce  and  round  the 
door  of  the  college. 

That  evening  the  drawing-room  of  the  pious  Russian 
Prmcess  became  a  scene  of  animated  discussion  and  all 
but  contention.  Few  were  the  exUe's  friends  in  that 
circle,  where  the  painful  remembrance  of  despotism  had 
led  them  to  mistake  the  reverse  of  wrong  for  right,  and 
■ad  thrown  them  into  the  theory  of  ultra-liberal,  if  uot 


■ 


I«4 


KOMI  AMLi   TBI   ABDKT. 


republican  principles.  Our  two  English  Religious,  with- 
drawn behind  tiieir  grating,  now  doubly  rejoiced  that  th« 
long>aought-for  privilege  of  encloHuro  was  at  length  thcira; 
for,  what  hod  they  to  do  with  political  questions  and 
strife  of  parties  1  Hieir  blessed  calling  was  to  cultivate 
the  spirit  ot  peace  and  of  intercessory  prayer  in  silence, 
bidden  and  unlinown. 

The  third  day  following  the  important  conference  with 
Father  Duago,  while  again  pondering  on  the  foundation 
of  the  new  branch  of  the  Benedictine  Order  in  England, 
and  praying  that  some  decided  command  of  Superiora 
should  confirm  the  advice  of  the  Confessional,  our  Reli- 
gious Recluse  was  summoned  to  an  audience  of  Cardinal 
Fransone,  and  ventured  to  inquire  whether,  in  preference 
to  fixing  the  perpetual  adoration  in  the  country,  his  Emi< 
cence  had  decided  on  London  t  The  countenance,  usually 
placid,  even  to  coldness,  was  lit  up,  and  the  Cardinal  even 
with  vehemence  exclaimed,  "  Yen!  that  would  be  a  good 
work  in  expiation  of  all  the  blasphemies  and  sacrilege! 
committed  against  that  Adorable  Mystery  in  the  city  o« 
London.  No  other  spot  should  be  thought  of  in  com 
ywiaua  of  Um  capital,  in  comparison  of  London.** 


t  , 


gioua,  with- 
:ed  that  the 
Qgth  theirs; 
sstioiis  and 
to  cultivate 
r  in  silence, 

'erenco  with 
foundation 
in  England, 
f  Superiors 
1,  our  Reli- 
of  Cardinal 
1  preference 
y,  his  Emi- 
nee,  usually 
rdlnal  even 
1  be  a  good 
d  sacrileges 
.  the  city  o« 
of  in  com 
loo.** 


Mm  AND  TB*  Asunr. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

I'Vom  lirllb  of  woMli  ind  parilM  rnd* 
Com*  to  our  monnuJn  loUtnda. 

Om  TTiursday  the  26th  of  May,  1848,  their  Eininenoea 
the  CardinaL  Vicar  and  the  Carduial  Head  of  the  Propv 
ganda  Fide,  having  so  authoriaed  their  delegate  and  re- 
presentative,  the  religious  ceremony  of  clothing  the  first 
Novices  and  bestowing  on  them  the  white  vtU,  took 
place  in  the  private  chapel  of  the  Princess  Z4n6:-^e  V 
the  celebrant  being  the  true  and  ze&l-us  friend  of  our 
Benedictir.      Solitaries,    the  holy  Biahop   Pompallier, 
assisted  by  Dom  Pietro  and  the  AbW  Martet,  with  other 
priesU    The  political   storm  was  loweung  over  ai.d 
ready  to  burst  on  Rome.    AU   the  English  residents 
and  visitors  had  fled,  with  but  few  exceptions ;  and  alone, 
•midst  the  Italian,  French,  and  Russian  assistants  at  tlus 
private  ceremony,  stood  one  countrywoman,  an  English 
Protestant— her  tall,  &ir  form,  and  mUd,  devout  expres. 
uon,  befitting  well  the  post  she  unconsciously  held  of 
representative  of  that  world  of  home  affections,  which 
not  alone  Lilia,  but  her  sister  Novice  was  equally  to  re- 
nounce  in  grateful  farewell  to  Protestants.    This  Novice, 
who  took  the  name  of  «  Mary  John  of  the  Cross,"  had 
been  born  of  devout  Catholic  parents,  and  favoured  from 
earliest  in^cy  by  all  the  blessings  of  the  Church,  yet 
Divme  Providence  had  so  willed  that,  through  all  her 
trphan  womanhood,  Prot^tanta  had  alone  appreciated, 


S66 


BOMK   AND  TBX   ABBB7. 


sympathizecl,  and  befriended  her;  so  that  in  genuine 
heartfelt  emotion,  turning  to  this  their  pious  representa- 
tive, she  pronounced  the  words  prescribed  before  entering 
the  grated  enclosure,  "  Farewell !  my  family  and  friends. 
Receive  my  humble  thanks  for  all  the  good  you  have  ever 
done  or  wished  to  me ;  which  may  God  reward  !" 

The  following  day,  by  the  advice  and  through  the  prac- 
tical  friendship  and  protection  of  their  illustrious  coun- 
trywoman, the  Princess  D.,  our  English  Religious  left 
Rome,  and  passed   through  five-and-twenty  miles  of 
varied  and  beautiful  scenery  to  a  mountain-girt  solitude ; 
where,  on  a  rocky  mound  abruptly  rising  from  a  fertile 
and  undulating  valley,  stood  the  feudal  Palace  of  VaU 
inontone.    Here  they  gratefully  took  possession  of  the 
part  allotted  them ;  their  chief  apartment,  which  they 
called  the '  community-room,'  being  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  palace,  where  not  a  sound  could  be  heard,  nor  the  near 
abode  of  man  distinguished.    Immediately  below  the 
windows  was  a  terraced  garden  of  artificial  mould  formed 
on  the  rocky  mound,  beneath  which  was  the  fosse,  or 
ditch,  belonging  to  the  ancient  fortifications,  now  dry  for 
all  warlike  purposes  of  defence,  but  retaining  the  vivid 
green  and  the  water-plants  proper  to  its  still  humid  state. 
Beyond  this  fosse  arose  the  little  gardens,  vineyards,  and 
orchards  of  the  dependent  town,  which,  probably  for 
security,  and  with  great  picturesque  effect,  was  thickly 
clustered,  with  no  garden,  and  scarcely  breathing-room, 
on  the  west  side  of  the  palace.     These  little  gardens, 
vineyards  and  orchards,  intermingling,  as  they  receded 
ft  om  the  palace,  with  meadows  and  groves  of  trees,  were 
carried  half-way  up  the  nearer  chain  of  mountains,  wher» 


Miiiiii 


^wS?W«?^}^T?.VV5».-^ 


\%I^^^^^?^7IlK^':^r^^:^y^?'*r^^^^^T^^^^^^^^!^?Lp'^T 


r. 

0  that  in  genuine 
*  pious  representa* 
3ed  before  entering 
family  and  friends, 
food  you  have  ever 
id  reward !" 

1  through  the  prac- 
r  illustrious  coun- 
lish  Religious  left 
1-twenty  miles  of 
itain-girt  solitude ; 
sing  from  a  fertile 
lal  Palace  of  Val- 
possession  of  the 
ment,  which  they 
the  eastern  side  of 
leard,  nor  the  near 
liately  below  the 
sial  mould  formed 
was  the  fosse,  or 
tions,  now  dry  for 
'etaining  the  vivid 
» still  humid  state, 
ns,  vineyards,  and 
ich,  probably  for 
sfTect,  was  thickly 
y  breathing-roora, 
se  little  gardens, 

,  as  they  receded 
ives  of  trees,  were 
nountains,  wher» 


ItOHB   AMD  THB   ABBK7. 


Ml 


•ver  Ml  aiti/icial  soil  could  be  permanently  secured. 
Beyond  these  more  Ofxscssible  mountains  arose  the  snow- 
clad  Appeninea,  till,  within  this  same  view,  but  extending 
towards  the  south,  was  descried  the  last  of  the  Appenines, 
Bfiajestically  erect  on  the  side  of  its  kindred  chain,  then 
gently  sloping  on  its  sunny  way  to  the  plains  of  Terra- 
cina.  The  windows  of  their  so-called  '  community-room' 
being  in  the  iirst-flocr  of  a  feudal  place  of  strength,  they 
formed  in  th^  immense  thickness  of  the  wall  deep  recesses, 
which,  raised  from  the  rest  of  the  apartment,  provided  for 
our  recluses  little  hermitages,  in  which  they  immediately 
realized  the  peaceful  solitude  of  their  vocation. 

Here  Lilia,  now  the  Novice  "  Mary  Cecilia  of  Jesus," 
having  sketched  the  scenery  just  described,  and  admired 
during  many  evenings  the  reflection  on  the  mountains  of 
a  gorgeous  sunset  given  from  the  far  west,  painted  for 
8istcr  Agnes,  now  become  "Dame  Agnes,"  and  her 
Reverend  Mistress  of  Novices,  the  soft  oil  painting  for 
the  .  Jture  cell ;  and  here,  in  her  appropriated  little  her- 
mitage, silently  meditating  on  whatever  holy  subject  had 
been  proposed  to  her,  did  Sister  Mary  John  of  the  Cross 
bring  to  its  trrmination  a  tapestry  work  of  rare  beauty 
for  the  altar. 

To  reach  the  iribune,  or  gallery  pew  in  the  church, 
called  the '  corretto,'  our  Solitaries  had  to  mount  a  spiral 
staircase,  and  to  pass  through  a  suite  of  deserted  state- 
rooms and  a  gallery,  which  gave  them  a  walk  from  ono 
end  of  the  palace  to  the  other ;  and  this  walk  being  ro- 
poat«d  for  the  early  Masses  and  Communion,  for  High 
Mass,  for  the  Canonical  Hours,  and  for  the  Adoration  of 
the  most  Holy  Sacrament,  gave  them  sufiicient  exercise 


I 


'.,'> 


MH 


BOMS   AND  THE   ABBET. 

for  health,  especially  as  in  those  higher  rooms,  unfurnished 
and  unglazed,  the  mountain  air  and  mountain  views  were 
free  and  exhilarating.    From  the  corretto  a  small  turrut- 
stair  led  into  the  collegiate  church  below,  where,  in  a 
email  chapel,  on  the  Gospel  side  of  the  high  altar,  they 
received  Holy  Communion.    The  church  was  admirably 
served  by  the  Reverend  Canons,  whose  chant  was  sono- 
rous and  well-sustained ;  so  that,  during  the  privilegol 
months  of  their  residence  in  that  mountain  solitude,  our 
Recluses  eiyoyed  more  of  the  sacred  functions  of  the 
Cliurch  than  they  had  yet  obtained  even  in  Rome.    Here, 
returning  doily  and  hourly  thanks  for  the  mercies  that 
surrounded  her,  our  Pilgrim,  in  her  glances  towards  the 
future,  humbly  prayed  that  the  mystery  which  enveloped 
her  hoped-for  return  to  England  might  in  God's  good 
time  be  removed,  and,  in  the  many  lonely,  silent  hours  of 
her  present  life,  dwelt  on  the  landmarks  of  the  past  six- 
teen years,  with  a  view  to  discern  their  purport  and  in- 
fluence on  the  coming  evening  of  her  life.    She  especially 
recalled  the  first  confidence  she  had  reposed  in  the  la- 
mented Foundress  and  first  Superior  of  the  Sisters  of 
Mercy,  soon  after  her  arrival,  imder  the  protection  of  that 
venerable  Religious,  from  the  convent  of  her  noviciate  and 
profession  m  Cork,  by  those  of  Cho-leville,  Limerick, 
TuUamore,  and  Carlow,  to  the  Mother  Hour?  in  Dublin. 
This  confidence  was  the  irrepressible  attraction  given  her 
during  her  immediate  retreat  before  profession  to  the 
august  devotion  of  the  Perpetual  Devotion,  followed  by 
the  inspiration,  as  she  lay  prostrate  before  the  Divine 
Mysteries,  having  pronounced  her  vows,  to  supplicate 
that,  in  whatever  convent  she  might  end  her  days,  this 


JuL 


uifuraished 
news  were 
nail  turret- 
vhere,  in  a 
altar,  they 
admirably 
b  was  sono- 
priviiegetJ 
litude,  our 
ions  of  the 
ae.  Here, 
lercies  that 
owards  the 
t  enveloped 
]}od's  good 
mt  hours  of 
lie  past  six- 
K)rt  and  in- 
i  especially 
in  the  la- 
Sisters  of 
tion  of  that 
tvtciate  and 
Limerick, 
in  Dublin. 
>n  given  her 
lion  to  the 
bllowed  by 
the  Divine 
supplicate 
rdaya^tUfl 


BOm  AHD  THB  ABBIT. 


868 


■ablime  devotion  might  be  established.  She  recalled  the 
■weet  and  cheerful  look  with  which,  in  answer  to  this  con- 
fidence,  the  Rever-".d  Foundress  replied,  "And  why  not  ? 
Why,  in  the  Mother  House  of  each  country,  where  there 
may  be  the  average  of  our  present  twenty-seven  in  the 
noviciat3,  should  there  not  be  carried  on  the  Adoration, 
and,  as  far  as  could  be,  perpetually !"  Our  Pilgrim  then 
recalled  the  circumstance  made  knoMm  to  her  on  her  ar- 
rival in  Rome  by  the  Missionary  Fathers  of  the  Precious 
Blood,  who'are  the  Confessors  of  the  Nuns  of  the  Per- 
petual Adoration  on  Monte  Cavallo.  She  recalled  the 
declaration  that  on  her  death-bed,  where  she  had  departed 
fa  the  odour  of  sanctity,  the  late  Superioress  of  that 
convent  had  announced,  "  An  Englishwoman  will  soon 
arrive  to  found  our  devotion  in  England."  Our  Pilgrim, 
fa  recalling  these  two  circumstances,  was  naturally  led  to 
follow  those  two  holy  Religious  m  spirit  to  their  heavenly 
home,  and  implore  their  aid.  She  possessed  a  print  of 
the  Roman  Nun,  and  a  relic  of  her  habit  on  a  printed 
paper  of  authentication ;  but  of  her  beloved  friend,  the 
Irish  Nun,  although  she  had  twice  taken  her  likeness,  and 
had  possessed  many  letters  fa  her  peculiar  hand-writing, 
bhe  now  had  nothing,  and  was  one  evening  dwellmg  par. 
tioularly  on  the  frequency  with  which  these  two  Religious, 
the  one  a  Contemplative  Recluse,  the  other  an  Active 
Philanthropist,  met  fa  spirit  during  her  meditation,  when 
Sister  Agnes  begged  permission  to  mterrupt  her  solitude 
on  the  plea  of  a  spiritual  necessity.  This  confidence 
from  Sister  Agnes,  told  in  all  the  humble  nmplioity  of 
her  usual  announcement  of  supernatural  objects,  ooinoided 
16* 


% 


870 


ROIU   AND  THK   ABBET. 


entirely  with  that  unicm  on  which  our  Pilgrim  Lad  h 
quiriiigly  pondered. 

On  each  side  of  the  holy  Cardinal  who  had  been  their 
best  friend  on  earth,  and  was  now  often  seen  radiant  in 
glory  above  the  high  altar  of  the  church,  Sister  Agnes 
had  that  day  marked  with  joy,  on  the  Saint's  right  hand, 
tlie,  to  her,  well-known  countenance  and  figure  of  the  late 
Superioress  of  the  Perpetual  Adoration  in  Rome,  dressed 
according  to  her  Order  in  the  crimson  scapular,  and  other 
Insignia  of  her  vocation.    On  his  left  hand  stood  a  taller, 
feirer  Religious,  in  venerable,  yet  blooming  age;  the 
dress,  in  every  detail,  was  that  of  a  Sister  of  Mercy. 
Could  It  be  the  beloved  and  lamented  Foundress  of  that 
congregation  t    On  the  following  day,  in  heavenly  cond©- 
Bcenslon,  the  sainted  three  re-appeared,  and  the  blessed 
Catherine  MacAuley,  dressed  in  the  doak  and  bonnet 
with  the  speckled  straw-basket  for  the  visitation  of  the 
HJok  poor,  appeared  with  characteristics  of  feature  and 
oi-mplexion  so  marked,  that  Sister  Agnes,  who  had  never 
beheld  her  in  life,  was  enabled  to  describe  what  she  saw 
to  the  entire  and  grateful  content  of  her  who  saw  not, 
and  yet  believed ! 

This  was  but  the  beginning  of  almost  dally  announce- 
ments of  the  care,  the  maternal  care,  which  these  two 
blessed  guardians  took  of  the  united  Institute  of  the 
Solitaries  and  Handmaids  of  Jesus  and  Mary.  But  lei 
this  suifice. 

In  September  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Valmontone, 
with  their  eldest  child,  friends,  and  attendants,  came  to 
occupy  their  usual  suite  of  rooms  in  their  feudal  palace 
and  the  Religious  Solitary »  were  enabled  to  prove  to 


Hlil 


MiiliiimMHIl^^^ 


SOME   AND  TBK  ABBXT. 


871 


flieiT  sweet  countrywoman  and  benefactress,  how  truly 
•ho  had  comprehended  their  vocation.  Tne  chief  object 
of  this  visit  to  the  least  frequented  of  their  numerous 
palaces  was  w  perform  the  pilgrimage  to  Genezawjo, 
amongst  the  near  mountains,  where  was  a  noted  shrine 
of  our  Lady ;  miraculous  even  in  these  days  of  incredu- 
lity,  perhaps  the  more  so  on  that  account,  for  when  has 
the  maternal  heart  of  Mary  failed  in  hour  of  need ! 

Scarcely,  had  the  devout  Prince  and  Princess,  with 
their  suit's  returned  from  Valmontone  to  Albano,  when 
the  Religious  Solitaries  received  the  recreative  visit  o** 
Miss  Graham,  who,  with  her  servants,  finding  suflficicntly 
good  roc'ms  at  the  inn,  remained  several  weeks  in  tho 
daily  society  of  her  beloved  friend  and  her  companions; 
•nd  had  scarcely  arranged  her  temporary  home  when  she 
lequested  a  sight  of  the  Constitutions  of  the  embryo 
Institute,  adding,  however,  that  when  she  saw  the  flexible 
obedience  of  those  already  engaged  in  the  religious  life, 
she  much  feared  that  for  herself  the  blessed  time  waa 
past  for  ever." 

« And  what  thinks  your  Confessor  T  said  the  ReU- 

pous. 

"  Why  he  does  not  consider  the  case  to  b»  so  des- 
perste,"  said  Katherine,  smiling. 

«  And  1  supnose,"  said  her  friend,  also  smiling,  "  that 
•8  a  good  Catholic  you  consider  him  to  be  the  best  judge 

of  the  two  r 

«« It  is  in   consequence  of  that  consideration,"  said 

.  Katherine,  "  that  I  have  requested  to  see  your  code  of 

laws.    If  I  do  not  like  them,  even  in  theory,  why  no 


872 


ROUS    AND   THE   ABDET. 


Confessor  in  bis  senses  would  ui^e  me  to  tr;  the  priMV 
tice,  and  if,  liking  the  theory,  I  stumble  in  the  prao* 
tice,  I  can  get  up  and  be  off  again." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  Religious ;  "  rather  say,  that  if  you 
stumble  in  the  practice,  liking  the  theory,  it  is  becaus« 
you  exact  from  yourself,  in  the  spirit  of — ;  may  I  speak 
the  words,  Katherine  ?" 

"  I  will  speak  them  for  you,"  said  Miss  Graham :  "  I 
exact  from  myself,  in  the  spirit  of  spiritual  pride,  an 
instant  spiritual  J)erfect»--i,  instead  of  waiting  the  ordi- 
diuary  growth  of  grace  by  means  adapted  to  my  state.'* 

"  Just  K),"  observed  the  Religious. 

"  But,"*  continued  Miss  Graham,  "  you  weL  Know  my 
itter  dislike  of  all  hypocrisy  ;  ond  I  should  dread  adopt- 
ing a  certain  dress  and  maimer  and  routine  of  life,  whilu 
I  was  only  hoping  to  gain  the  interior  spirit." 

"  If  you  had  the  earnest  desire  to  gain  the  interior 
spirit  of  the  religious  life,"  said  the  Nun,  "you  might 
safely  adopt  the  dress  and  routine,  for  hypocrites  never 
earnestly  desire  holiness  of  life." 

"  There  is  but  one  of  the  vows  that  would  become  a 
source  of  scruple  to  me,"  obser-ed  Kathe-ine,  "  and  tlutt 
is  the  vow  of  obedience." 

"  Take  courage,"  replied  the  Religious.  "  Those  who 
first  unite  in  this,  or  any  other  foundati  n,  must  of  neces- 
sity be  engaged  at  once  in  offices  of  trust,  and  become  the 
confidential  friends  and  advisers  of  their  Superior.  Hius, 
fiur  from  lamenting  that  the  flexible  years  of  girlhood  are 
passed,  far  from  lamenting  the  many  years  you  have  had 
of  practical  experience  in  the  management  of  a  hous» 
hold,  and  in  benevolent  er,rts  for  the  poor,  r<^oice  that 


(f^ 


ROm  AND  THB   ABBKT. 


978 


you  can  serve  God  with  the  same  prudence,  knowledge, 
and  fidelity,  vhich,  lilce  the  prayers  and  alms  of  Corne- 
lius, lie  Itad  already  accepted  from  you,  being  a  Pro- 
testant^  and  rewarded  you  with  the  light  of  faith.  For 
your  ?'istres8  of  Novices  I  can  offer  you  no  one  but  my- 
self, assisted  by  Sister  Agnes,  and — " 

"Oh!"  interrupted  Katherine,  "1  want  no  other! 
Thank  Heaven  !  the  bugbear  is  over  of  being  perpetually 
pursued  by^  some  tight  little  woman  fiill  of  minutia;. 
Give  me  the  thick  manuscript — it  seems  less  terrifio 
being  in  your  hand-writing,  my  own  Geraldine — I  beg 
every  monastic  pardon  possible!  our  most  Reverend 
Mother  and  pro-Abbess  of  London  Abbey." 

Miss  Graham  did  not  visit  the  Reiigious  Solitary  du- 
ring the  next  three  days ;  but  on  the  fourth  evening  she 
brought  back  the  manuscript  of  the  Constitutions,  saying, 
"  Well,  I  have  read  every  word ;  not  dipping  or  skipping, 
but  regularly  from  the  Introduction  to  the  Conclusion, 
both  included.  First  I  read  through  all  the  duties  of  the 
enclosed  Solitaries  of  the  Adoration,  very  much  as  I 
should  any  history  of  the  Angelic  Hierarchy :  but  when 
I  came  to  the  duties  of  the  Active,  Sisters  of  the  Insti- 
tute I  felt  the  ground  beneath  my  feet,  for  I  remember 
my  visit  to  the  Convent  of  Mercy  in  Ireland,  and  so,  by 
God's  grace  will  I '  go  and  do  likewise,'  under  your  aus- 
p'.ces,  in  that  great  Babylon  of  London."  Katherine 
Graham  then  wrote  to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Terrison,  who 
was  staying  at  the  English  College  in  Rome,  and  with 
whom  during  the  last  year  she  had  kept  up  an  animated 
correspondence.  After  the  receipt  of  his  answer,  she 
made  no  secret  of  her  intentions  to  join  the  united  IniU* 


I 


^R' 


*%: 


S74 


ROME   AKO  TLB   ABDBT. 


tute  in  London  as  a  Handmaid  of  Jesus  abd  Maiy 
The  delight  of  Lilia  may  be  well  imagined,  especially 
IS,  in  making  this  announcement,  Katherine  added,  "  And 
although  for  myself  I  prefer  serving  my  fellow-creatures, 
for  God's  sake,  in  the  same  mode  I  have  hitherto  done, 
yet  I  do  fuel,  deeply  feel,  the  value  of  being  beneath  the 
same  roof  with  the  adorable  Mysteries,  of  knowuig  that 
perpetual  Adoration  is  with  us,  and  of  knowing  also,  that 
while  I  am  toiling,  and  much  cumbered  with  serving, 
you,  mysterious  girl,  and  others  of  your  vocation,  are 
receiving  the  Divine  whispers  of  Heaven,  and  praying 
for  my  necessities." 

"  I  think,"  said  Katherine,  a  few  days  after  this  con- 
versation, *'  that  wherever  you  abide  in  Italy  you  find 
yourselves  associakid  with  Active  Religious,  and  able  to 
try  the  experiment  of  their  union  with  you  Contempla* 
tives.  In  Rome  you  could  kneel  unseen  above  the  labours 
of  the  Pious  Teacheps,  and  view  them  through  your 
curious  trap-door ;  while  here,  from  the  coretto  of  the 
nalace  you  can  see  the  Salesian  Teachers*  in  the  church 
below — ^that  is,  if  you  watch  for  their  entrance,  as  I  do ; 
for  I  love  them  all/  from  the  affectionate  old  Prioress 
and  Sub-Prioress  to  the  blushing  little  Juniors  in  their 
grotesque  hoods  and  tight  sleeves,  and  truly  welcome 
them  to  »ur  festival  recreations,  to  enjoy  their  catoche- 
tical  wrangling,  and  their  pretty  litanies  and  hymns." 

Before  leavuig  Valmontone  to  return  for  the  winter  to 
Naples,  Katherine,  who  had  paid  a  fare^^ell  visit   to 

•  Beligioni  Commnnitr  daroted  to  Uio  instnicliaii  of  poor  girli,  tamUA 
tj  ■  Princeu  Doria.  Their  ConiUtaUons  tn  bu«d  on  th*  Rol*  o(  M 
rimnoiiofSubi. 


)» 


JJ 


HOMl  AMD  TBI  ABBBt. 


87A 


Rome,  brought  back  Mr.  T  48on  just  as  the  Albano 
Confessor  of  the  Nuns,  the  Alissionary  Father  of  the 
"  Precious  Blood,"  had  arrived  on  hi  "aonthly  visit  a 
little  before  his  time.  ITus  meeting  viitii  their  other 
Confessor  and  friend,  M .•.  Terrison,  was  most  acceptable 
to  all  parties,  for  warnings  had  been  given  through  the* 
medium  of  the  humble  and  simple  Sister  Agnes,  who 
without  ever  attempting  to  interpret,  or  even  comment 
on  what  she  daily  beheld  over  the  high  altar  of  the 
jhurch,  would  recount,  as  she  knelt  beside  her  Superior- 
ess, the  following  prophetic  signs : — 

The  blessed  Cardinal  Acton  sternly  shaking  a  rod  or 
wand  towards  the  Palace  and  Rome,  which  both  lay  on 
the  Gospel  side  of  the  altar,  and  pointing  with  the  other 
hand,  which  containe<f  a  cross,  towards  Naples. 

The  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  sea. 

The  lai^e  greenish  waves  of  the  ocean. 

The  representatiaiof  an  aged  Cardinal,  in  torn  and 
■oiled  clothes,  takin{  flight. 

A  ruined  church  covered  with  ivy. 

A  Friar,  or  Monk,  seated,  with  blood  flowing  from  the 
throat  to  the  feet 

A  Nun  bound  with  crimson  bands. 

His  present  Holiness  Pius  the  Nintii  iaking  fli^t, 
with  a  military  weapon  in  his  hand.  Then  seen  in  full 
pontificals,  with  a  black  cloth  over  his  &ce  and  head,  and 
wringing  his  hands. 

The  old  ruined  church  full  of  people  in  confusion  and 
iistress. 
Women  takmg  flight  with  dishevelled  hair. 
Military  marching  in  all  directions. 


~^'L 


^ 


%H 


MOUl  AND  tni  ADBXr. 


Heaps  of  dying  and  dead. 
An  immensely  thicic  wall,  with  a  breach  in  It 
These  warnings,  with  many  more,  having  been  Mik> 
tnitted  to  both  ordinary  and  extraordinary  Confessor, 
and  received  by  them  as  Heaven-sent,  it  was  arranged 
.  that  Mr.  Terrison,  Dom  Francesco,  and  their  kind  friend, 
the  English  Banker  in  the  Corso,  Rome,  should  all  three 
unite  to  give  warning  to  depart  from  the  Papal  States, 
should  the  progress  of  revolutionary  principles  be  such 
as  to  render  a  longer  stay  at  Yalmontr/ne  hazardous  for 
foreign  Religious.  This  promise  r^iycn  and  other  aT' 
rangements  made  in  distant  preparation,  Mise  Gruham 
with  leas  concern  took  leave,  and  continued  during  the 
month  of  November  to  receive  weekly  letters  at  Naples 
from  Rome,  till  at  length  the  public  events  became  such 
as  to  render  her  more  painfully  anxious.  The  once  for- 
tified and  still  strong  position  of  the  feudal  Palace  of 
Valmontone  being  the  first  great  halting-place  from  Rome 
on  that  road  to  Naples,  made  her  fear  that  it  might  be- 
come, as  it  had  once  before  been,  the  object  of  contention 
between  hostile  troops;  and  her  anxiety  reached  its 
height  when  she  learned  that  the  public  conveyances 
were  prohibited  from  entering  the  Neapolitan  Statea, 
fbllowed  by  the  murder  iu  Rome  of  the  Prime  Minister, 
the  attack  on  the  Papal  Palace,  and  the  vioUnt  deatk  of 
tiw  Abate  Palms 


1 


"M^-  — - 


-r 


nom   AHD  TBI   AOORT. 


871 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


1 


V«  mImIi  hear  thii  awhil  word, 

"  Toaeb  nM  the  anolnhid  of  tb*  Lord  !" 

\li  his  privato  room,  at  the  end  of  the  long  suite  of  aa« 
dience^hambera,  in  the  Palace  of  the  Quirinal,  stood  tm 
Sovereign  Pontiff,  Pius  the  Ninth,  alone  and  deep  in 
thought.  In  one  hand  his  Holiness  held  a  small  flat  case, 
once  richly  ornamented,  but  now  so  worn  and  discoloured 
that  scarcely  it  seemed  fit  to  be  an  offering  from  afar,  aa 
yet  it  was  to  him  who  gazed  on  it  intently  and  with  re. 
verenoe.  The  various  papers  which  had  enveloped  the 
case  lay  ou  a  table  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Pope,  which, 
resting  on  this  table,  still  held  the  letter  in  French  cha- 
racters that  had  accompanied  and  explained  the  offering 
yf  the  velvet  case,  and  which  his  Holiness,  again  raising, 
read  with  still  increasing  emotion.  The  donor  of  the  un- 
expected gift  was  the  Bishop  of  Valence,  in  which  city 
the  exiled  Pope  Pius  the  Sixth  passed  the  last  years  of 
his  life ;  and  the  letter  ran  thus : — ^"  Most  holy  Father, 
the  time  is  just  at  hand  when  you  will  require  this  relie 
of  your  prcdt'cessor  Pius  the  Sixth,  who  on  leaving  Rome 
bore  the  adorable  Host  in  his  bosom,  contained  within 
the  accompanying  case.  On  his  death-bed  here  at  Va. 
lenoe,  Pius  the  Sixth  presented  this  companion  of  his  exii^ 
to  my  predecessors  in  the  see.  Deign  to  accept  and  use 
Ihe  offering  now  laid  at  your  sacred  feet,  and  bestow 


.     / 


1 


919 


lUna  AND  TBI  ABBIT. 


your  benediction  on  your  devoted  Servant  ai.d  Sec  Ib 
Christ." 

As  Pius  the  Ninth,  again  resting  his  hand  on  the  taWe, 
stood  in  profound  thought,  a  small  private  door  c»poncd 
from  a  staircase  leading  from  the  rooms  below  occupied 
by  his  Confessor,  and  Monsignor  Stella  entering,  received 
the  confidence  of  the  Pope. 

The  following  day  commenced  the  active  results  of 
that  rebellious  spirit,  which  in  its  stubborn  pride  would 
&in  have  made  a  gilded  puppet  of  the  Pope :  who,  amid 
triumphal  arches  and  bands  of  music,  was  to  cede  to  the 
republican  leaders  all  the  vital  principles  of  the  tiarn. 
Thus  Rossi  fijll,  and  the  venerable  Palma ;  and  the  sa- 
cred, the  triply  sacred  dwelling  of  the  Monarch  was  in- 
milted  by  outrages  fi-om  which  his  meanest  subject  is 
protected.  On  the  evening  of  the  25th  of  November,  in 
the  drawing-room  of  the  lady  of  the  bavarian  Ambassa- 
dor, the  Countess  of  Sporre,noone  but  herself  being  pro> 
Bent,  her  husband  and  the  Ambassador  of  France  met 
and  arranged  the  final  measures  for  the  escape  of  the 
Pope  firom  Rome.  The  Ambassadors  of  France  and  Ba- 
varia :  but  why,  then,  do  they  fix  on  the  kingdom  of  Na- 
ples ?  It  is  easy  of  access ;  but  is  the  King  of  Nicies  • 
fiuthfiil  son  to  the  Pope  1  Is  it  to  the  cordial  and  gene, 
rous  welcome  of  a  home,  or  to  the  cold  policy  of  a  state- 
prison  that  Pius  the  Ninth  is  about  to  entrust  his  sacred 
person  1  And  what  means  the  admission  of  a  fair  asso> 
ciate  in  this  hour  of  deep  and  anxious  counterplot?  At 
ten  at  night  Count  Sporre  left  his  house  with  the  Frendi 
Ambassador,  Mons.  d'Harcourt ;  but  they  parted  in  the 
Piazza  dei  Sunta  Apostoli,  the  lattor  entering  his  P&Iaoo 


W" 


BOa  AMD  THl  ABBIY. 

of  tho  French  Embassy,  aiid  the  Minister  of  Bavaria  be- 
ing driven  to  the  inner  court  of  the  Quirinal.  "  The  hour 
Is  rather  late,"  said  his  Excellency,  on  entering  the  Papal 
Palace  ;  "  but  I  have  no  choice ;  my  business  with  the 
Pope  is  too  important  to, be  deferred :"  and  he  pursued 
without  molestation  his  course  to  the  audience-chamber, 
the  Major  Duomo  and  First  Lord  of  the  Chamber  being 
in  the  secret  In  half  on  hour  the  carriage  of  the  French 
Ambassador  rolled  into  the  court  of  the  Palace;  and  hit 
Excellency  of  France,  leaping  from  the  steps,  began  U 
ascend  the  great  staircase.  "  It  is  not  possible,  Eec$kn' 
CO,"  said  the  g-  » -rs;  *'the  hour  is  past." 

"  And  pray  n/  oat  means  then  the  carriage  of  the  Bav» 
rian  Mmister  being  here  1"  said  Mons.  d'Harcourt. 

"  Oh !"  said  the  guards,  "  he  is  just  going  away." 

"  I  dare  you  to  refuse  admittance  to  the  Ambassador 
of  France,  another  Ambassador  being  already  admitted  !** 
cried  his  Excellency;  and  the  guards  hesitating,  ha 
gained  the  ante-rooms  and  entered  the  audience^hamber 
of  the  Pope. 

In  about  ten  minutes  after  the  admission  of  the  French 
Ambassador,  his  Excellency  of  Bavaria  withdrew,  aiii, 
accompanied  by  an  Ecclesiastic,  passed  through  the  suite 
of  rooms  and  the  great  staircase  on  his  return  to  his  car 
riage,  which  still  awaited  him  in  the  court.  Withui  the 
s^ntane  of  the  accompanying  priest,  carefully  placed  or 
nis  breast,  was  the  ."  crimson  case,"  and  in  it  the  "  Holy 
of  Holies,"  fortifying,  consoling,  and  miraculously  con 
oealing  from  his  enemies  Hia  Vicar  on  earth ;  for  thus, 
no  othemHse  metamorphosed  than  in  the  colour  of  his  sa* 
urud  garments,  did  Pope  Pius  the  Ninth  pass,  not  o::Ijr 


880 


BOMK    AND  THE    ABBET. 


his  household  guaroj  and  attendants,  but  all  the  cnnoot 
and  mischievous  loiterers  around  the  Palace  gates,  and, 
mounting  the  carriage  of  his  faithful  servant,  was  driven 
rapidly,  not  to  the  mansion  of  the  Ambassador,  but  to  the 
gate  of  Rome  called  Porta  Maggiore,  where  the  Ambas- 
sador  producing  his  passports  for  himself,  his  fami  y,  and 
his  "  Chaplain,"  they  proceeded  to  the  travelling  carriage 
awaiting  them  within  a  short  distance,  which  contained 
the  heroic  wife  and  the  little  sons  of  the  Ambassador. 

In  the  meantime  his  Excellency  of  Franco  remained  ift 
the  Papal  audience^:hamber  in  apparent  discourse  with 
his  Holiness.  He  then  came  forth  alone,  and  having 
gained  his  carriage  drove  home,  the  secret  remaining  un 
discovered. 

The  travelling  carriage  on  the  road  to  the  Neapolitan 
frontier  proceeded  post  with  such  rapidity,  that  by  the 
following  night,  through  Albano,  Terracina,  Fondi,  the 
holy  Father  and  his  devoted  children  had  arrived  at  the 
Locanda  in  Mola  di  Gaeta,  once  Cicero's  villa,  overlook- 
ing the  bay  and  fortress  of  Gaeta.  At  the  barrier  his 
Excellency  had  immediately  said  to  the  police  officers, 
"Gentlemen,  this  is  the  Pope !"  but  at  all  the  inns  the 
greatest  precaution  was  used,  and  now  continued  at  the 
hotel  in  Mola,  where  the  Countess  had  to  take  the  lead ; 
a  responsible  post,  the  duties  of  which  she  fuliilled  witn 
calm  but  active  courage.  A  stage  before  Mola  the  Am 
bassador  had  vacated  his  seat  to  Cardinal  Antonelli,  who 
was  to  personate  him  ;  and  now  the  Countess  proceeded 
to  select  the  rooms  for  the  different  members  of  her  & 
mily ;  assigning  as  a  motive  for  fixing  on  the  best  room 
for  the  Pope,  that  the  "  Reverend  Preceptor  and  Chap 


» yiimmmi^h 


1 1^ 


■Om  ANL  THX  ABBXr. 


881 


t  all  the  cnnoot 
alace  gates,  and, 
vant,  was  driven 
isador,  but  to  the 
here  the  Ambus- 
f,  hisfamij,  and 
avelling  carriage 
which  contained 
Ambassador, 
uico  remained  ia 
t  discourse  with 
one,  and  having 
et  remaining  un 

}  the  Neapolitan 
[ity,  that  by  the 
cina,  Fondi,  tha 
i  arrived  at  the 
villa,  overlook' 
the  barrier  hia 
)  police  officers, 
all  the  inns  the 
wntinued  at  the 
3  take  the  lead : 
he  fuliilled  witn 
e  Mola  the  Am 
1  Antonelli,  whc 
itess  proceeded 
ubers  of  her  & 
1  the  best  room 
tptor  and  Chi^ 


lain  was  suffering  from  face-ache;  and  besides,"  added 
the  Countess,  "  both  the  Count  and  myself  feel  that  we 
cannot  take  too  much  care  of  the  Signor  Abate  in  grate- 
ful retunt  for  the  care  he  takes  of  our  children."  When 
the  master  of  the  Locanda  saw  the  supposed  Tutor,  he 
was  struck  with  respect  amounting  to  awe,  and  after- 
wards declared  to  have  felt  the  presence  of  some  au- 
gust personage.  His  first  impulse  was  to  cease  directing 
the  servants  in  the  arrangement  of  the  rooms,  and  to 
himself  change  the  coverlid  of  the  bed  destined  for  the 
Btrjuiger ;  and  although  the  Countess  prudently  obser/ed 
that  the  coverlid  would  do  very  well,  the  padrono  ran  to 
fetch  one  of  damask  that  had  never  been  in  use,  and  Iwd 
it  on  the  bed  of  the  illustrious  visitor. 

The  Bavarian  Ambassador  meanwhile  journeyed  with 
speed  to  Naples,  bearing  to  the  King  these  lines  from  the 
Sovereign  Pontiff :—"  U  Vicario  di  Gesft  Pio  Nono,  al 
dilettissimo  figlio  Ferdmando  SecouJo,  cMede  un'asilio."* 
Eight  days  before  the  flight  of  the  Pope,  the  King  of  No- 
pies  had  written  confidentially  to  his  Holine>  beseech- 
ing  him  to  leave  the  city,  and  inviting  him  to  enter  tha 
kingdom.  The  result,  therefore,  of  this  touching  appeal 
could  not  be  doubted.  On  reaching  the  Hotel  de  Roiae,  in 
Naples,  the  Bavarian  Ambassador  immediately  requested 
an  interview  with  the  Papal  Nuncio,  who  then  went  direct 
to  his  Majesty,  notwitlistanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour 
and  by  iwo  o'clock  in  the  morning  three  steam-vesseU 
were  ready  to  depart  for  Gaeta ;  two  of  them  being  fil' od 
•with  troops,  .,nd  the  third  bearing  the  King,  Queen,  and 


•  "  Th*  Vicar  of  Jama  to  hi*  wall-beloTad  ton,  Fardlnand  tha 
i|«Mli  an  aijrlum." 


i 


«'r- 


S8S 


BOm   AND   THE   ABBKT. 


royal  children,  with  their  attendants ;  also  inimciiMi 
treasures  of  money,  vestments,  and  sacred  vessels ;  so 
that  the  officials  necessarily  employed  took  fur  granted 
that  some  rebellious  plot  had  been  discovered  and  that 
the  royal  family  were  taking  flight. 

The  ffrst  meeting  between  the  Pope  and  the  King  was 
midway  the  great  staircase  of  the  royal  Palace  atGaeta 
a  meeting  so  affecting  that  more  than  ten  minutes  elapsed 
before  either  spoke,  while  the  gentle  Queen,  the  children, 
and  attendant}  wept  around. 

Such  were  the  facts  related  to  our  English  Pilgrims, 
when  by  the  advice  of  spiritual  directors  and  the  events 
of  Rome,  they  left  their  solitude  of  Valmontone,  and 
proceeded  through  Velletri  and  Terracina  to  the  hallowed 
Rock  of  Gaeta.  So  little  had  they  been  able  to  trust  the 
Various  roports  given  of  the  flight  of  the  Pope  from 
Rome,  that  they  had  still  remained  ignorant  whether  his 
journey  had  been  effected  by  land  or  sea.  It  was  not  a 
time  in  ordinary  calculation  for  women  to  undertake  a 
long  journey ;  but,  although  the  middle  of  January,  a 
burst  of  balmy  spring  weather  favoured  them  on  the 
morning  of  their  departure  from  the  feudal  Palace ;  so 
that  being  clad  in  their  winter  wrappings  they  were  &iu 
to  cast  them  aside,  and  knew  no  inconvenience  but  from 
heat,  during  their  mountain  route  from  Valmontone  to 
Velletri ;  a  route  that  no  tourist  has  published — ^rich  it 
wild  and  varied  scenery,  during  the  early  part  of  whici 
our  English  travellers  oflen  turned  a  grateful  retrospeo 
tive  gaze  on  the  spot,  become  familiar'to  them  during  84 
many  peacefid  months,  never  to  be  viewed  again.  A 
Velletri  all  was  in  expe<  station  for  the  National  AssemUy 


ST 


'^' 


BOMI   AMD  THB  ABBBV 


38S 


k>  be  held  on  the  following  Sunday.  It  was  then  f  ridny 
evening  the  19th,  and  being  lodged  with  a  pious  and  re 
spectable  widow,  near  the  cathedral,  the  Pilgrims  bent 
their  steps  to  the  house  of  God,  and  knelt  at  the  variout 
altars  in  silent  prayer  until  the  Angelus  Domini.  A 
midnight  they  were  roused  by  the  sudden  arrival  of  ofl> 
ciatls  and  military  from  Rome,  the  chiefs  of  whom  with 
heavy  tread  paced  the  chambers  above  those  in  which  lay 
our  now  sleepless  travellers,  the  most  anxious  being  their 
•lerical  iriend'the  Canonico  B.,  who,  knowing  that  Bishops 
and  other  dignitaries  were  to  be  brought  to  Velletri  by 
force,  if  not  by  persuasion,  began  to  reflect  with  some 
dismay  that,  being  in  rank  the  Dean  of  his  Chapter  and 
bis  person  already  in  Velletri,  the  risk  was  great  of  being 
detained  by  those  miscreants,  the  republicans,  from  pur- 
suing  his  journey  with  the  English  party  to  Gaeta.  The 
state  of  things  was  rendered  more  complicated  from  th* 
Roman  company  of  soldiers  being  ordered  to  Terracina, 
the  last  city  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Papal  States  whither 
our  Pilgrims  were  to  journey  that  day.  The  venerable 
Canonico  was  also  very  reasonably  uneasy,  that,  whereas 
their  vetturino  had  proposed  and  even  urged  their  start* 
ing  early  in  the  monung,  he  was  not  now  to  be  found  of 
heard  of:  and  the  open  place  between  the  hotel  and  the 
cathedral  was  full  of  the  busy  and  angry  hum  of  i  mob. 
Dreading  to  attract  notice,  the  shutters  were  carefully 
closed  during  the  candlelight 'breakfast  of  the  traveller^ 
during  which  the  many  omnibuses  which  contained  tht 
Boldiers  rolled  away ;  and  soon  after,  it  being  just  befbr* 
minrise,  the  vetturino  himself  announced  that  all  was 
ready.    He  had  purposely  let  the  military  omnibuset 


f 


84 


ROMS  AND   THB   ABBST. 


gut  the  start,  and  during  the  early  part  of  the  day's  jour- 
ney through  the  Pontine  Marshes  he  drove  briskly,  be* 
ing  sure  that,  as  long  as  he  kept  out  of  sight,  he  was  free 
from  molestation.  Towards  mid-day,  and  as  he  drew 
near  the  rustic  inn  where  his  horses  were  wont  to  be  re- 
Ipeshed,  he  slackened  his  pace,  and  informed  the  travel 
era  that  he  must  proceed  the  whole  way  to  Terracina 
without  resting  or  refreshing  the  poor  animals,  for  that 
he  could  descry  in  the  distance  the  whole  party  of  mill- 
tary  halting  at  the  inn,  that  their  horses  were  taken  out 
of  the  omnibuses,  and  all  prepared  for  a  two  houra'  /est. 
♦*  Is  there  any  fear  of  their  stopping  usi"  said  the  Cano 
nico.  To  which  Enrico  only  replied  by  the  usual  Romai . 
**  Chi  lo  sa  1"  and  remounting  his  driving-seat  maintained 
his  slow  pace,  till  perceiving  that  every  horse  was  unhar 
Qossed,  and  the  men  sitting  or  lying  about  in  the  first  en 
joyment  of  their  frugal  dinner,  he  encouraged  his  vivv 
cious  horses  to  their  greatest  speed,  and  in  a  short  time 
left  far  behind  our  travellers  the  misguided  instruments 
of  the  republic.  In  prudence  and  affection  for  his  horses 
the  vetturino  then  again  slackened  his  pace,  not  fearing 
the  few  soldiers  who  had  walked  on  in  advance  either  in 
couples  or  alone.  To  one  of  these  solitary  soldiera  some 
provisions  from  the  carriage  were  offered,  which  he 
thuikfully  accepted ;  and  as  Lilia,  who  sat  back,  observed 
the  still  repeated  signs  of  his  gratitude,  she  exclaimed, 
"  Alas,  to  think  that  so  goo^  a  heart,  with  others  as  warm 
and  honest,  is  marching  against  his  sacred  and  lawful 
Sovereign!" 

"These  poor  Roman  soldiera,"  said  the  Beligious  op 
IXMite,  "  do  not  believe  that  they  are  mwching  in  rebel 


ROME   AND   THE   ABB£T. 


885 


lion  to  the  Pope.  They  are  taught,  on  the  contrary,  that 
Pius  is  in  the  hands  of  a  perfidious  enemy,  that  he  is  im- 
prisoned within  the  fortress  of  Gaeta,  and  that  he  ardently 
desires  success  to  the  Roman  army,  who  are  marching 
to  his  rescue.  Most  of  the  good  citizens  of  Rome  believe 
the  same,  and  just  as  I  find  it  expressed  in  a  letter  from 
oui  former  pious  young  attendant,  Louisa  F.,  which  ar- 
rived with  our  last  executed  commissions  from  the  Piazza 
Barberini :  '.'  Oh !  Signora  mia,  sono  suocedute  le  cose 
troppo  torribile.  U  nostro  buono  Santo  Padre  e  andato 
via,  e  sta  fra  le  mani  del  traditori."  The  good  Canonioo 
sighed,  and  his  colour  rose.  He  had  also  partly  believed 
the  same ;  and  even  should  the  Pope  have  found  a  home 
amidst  his  Neapolitan  sons,  a  jealous  pang  would  dart 
through  the  breasts  of  the  Roman -priests,  "Troppo 
troppo  mortificati  siamo  not  altri,"  said  he,  the  tears^ris- 
ing  to  his  eyes ;  but  immediately  raismg  them  and  his 
hands  to  Heaven,  he  added,  with  his  usual  meek  expres- 
sion, "  Etemo  Padre !  fo  vi  ofiro  il  Sangue  Preziosissimo 
di  Oesit  Cristo  in  isoonto  dt  i  miei  peccati,  e  per  i  bisogui 
della  santa  CSiiesV'*  to  which  their  well-known  and  daily 
taring  the  religious  travellers  replied  a  heartfelt '  Amen.* 

•  "  Etontl  Father !  I  offer  70a  the  moit  Pracioni  Blood  of  oar  Lord  J«aa 
Ckiiit,  In  upiation  of  all  mj  liiu,  and  for  the  wont*  of  the  Hi  )f  Cbiuak. 
Amb." 


It 


1 


mm 


^^ 


ssr 


liOiaC   ANU  TOE   ASBdt 


CHAPTER  XXXVL 

Hoppy  the  toul  whtne  feith  in  iMan 
To  gax«  BpoD  the  workl  anteen : 
She,  amid  Henvon'i  all-varying  •hvr, 
Haa  Vl'.tle  choice  in  Uiing>  baluw. 

Thx  day's  journey  along  the  celebrated  Pontine  Manilies 
bad  not  been  irithout  interest,  even  in  picturesque  eflfect, 
owing  to  the  range  of  mountains  which  broke  the  mono* 
tony  of  the  plain  ;  and  Sister  Agnes  informed  Ldlia  that 
she  had  at  length  determined  on  the  solitude  she  should 
like  to  rccal  in  the  future  cell,  if  Lilia  would  kindly  take 
the  sketch  for  her.  The  sketchbook  was  soon  cpen  ir 
Lilia's  hand,  and  she  declared  her  interest  in  knowing 
what  could  possibly  be  the  point  of  preference,  apart 
from  historical  remembrance,  which,  after  t!l  the  varied 
and  striking  scenery  they  had  passed,  should  be  found  io 
the  '  Palude  Pontefice  V 

"  It  is  that  solitary  tower,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  "  which 
I  have  watched  all  day,  standing  so  firmly  on  its  own 
pedestal  of  a  rock,  at  the  foot  of  those  sheltering  moua» 
tains,  and  looking  over  this  vast  plain." 

"  But,"  said  Lilia,  "  to  give  you  a  picture  characteiic- 
tic  of  these  Pontine  Marshes,  I  must  place  the  Montague 
della  Pine  And  the  solitary  tower  in  the  distance,  give  a 
middle  distance  of  the  plain,  and  introduce  as  a  fore- 
ground some  of  the  trees  of  the  forest  called  '  La  Mao- 
chia,'  famous  for  its  fierce  banditti.  To  do  this  I  must 
imagine  myself  f-ir  away  to  our  right,  and  our  present 
road  will  run  in  the  r  liddle  dista.ice.  Is  the  tower  to  ba 
the  principal  object  t  or  shall  I  introduce  some  interest 
'wg  group  in  the  foreground  1" 


«w*-- 


\. 


Tlb^ 


I 


ROm   AND  THl   ABBXr. 


887' 


"  To  draw  profitable  reflections  from  the  picture  In  our 
cell,"  replied  Sister  Agnes,  "  there  must  be  nothing  dis- 
tracting introduced.  I  am  called  to  be  a  Solitary,  like 
that  tower,  looking  over  the  vast  plain  of  the  world  with< 
out  changing  my  position  or  my  character ;  and  I  prefer 
cemparing  the  world  to  that  which  is  flat  and  monoton- 
ous, because  to  me  this  is  truth.  When  I  read  of  holy 
penitents,  who  have  once  found  the  world  too  beautiful 
and  enchanting,  I  cannot  comprehend  those  their  former 
feelings  and  temptations." 

"Then,  Dame  Agnes," said  Lilia,  "you  have  never 
been  tempted  even  by  the  starlights  of  the  Mediteria- 
nean,  or  the  sunsets  of  Rome,  or  the  moonlights  of  Albar 
1H>,  to  regret  that  our  greatest  prosperity  in  England  is 
to  be  some  sheltered  garden  with  a  cloudy  sky  ?" 

"  I  cannot  understand,"  said  Sister  Agnes,  "  how  per- 
sons dedicated  to  God  can  be  anxious  about  cliir.ate  or 
scenery.  Cannot  they  wait  till  they  go  to  enjoy  fvr  ever 
the  utmost  perfection  of  both !" 

"  And  yet,"  pleaded  Lilia,  "  holy  persons  dedkated  t*» 
God  have  so  oflen  fixed  themselves  in  beautiful  Kcennry, 
vhat  we  must  suppose  they  selected  those  spoln  ga  calcu- 
lated by  thoir  natural  beauties  to  assist  their  devc-tiou. 
The  Capuchins  and  the  Passionists,  ibr  instance  ,  can  any- 
thing exceed  the  wild  beauties  of  their  chosen  spots  1" 

"  In  a  country  so  naturally  beautiful  as  Italy,"  said  the 
Reverend  Mother,  "  these  spots  abound,  and  the  more 
wild,  so  perhaps  the  more  attainable  in  a  pecuniary  point 
of  view ;  and  the  degree  of  ^cultivation  given  around  every 
convent  adds  to  the  beauty  of  a  spot  not  chosen  fur  self 
gratification,  but,  generally  speaking,  the  free  gift  of  soma 
bene&ctor.  Still  less  have  the  Religious  Orders  in  Italy 
■ought  a  genia!  climate.    It  i«  their  birthright     And  r»>. 


■■M 


, 


>ia  AND  TBB   ADBKT 


Member,  Sister  Mary  Cecilia,  tliat  the  kingdom  of  Ooi 
la  not  without  and  around  ua :  it  ia  within  ua ;  and  this 
beat  'sunahine  of  the  breaat'  can  illumine  an  English, 
nay,  even  a  London  garden,  and  raise  the  fairest  bloa- 
■oms  of  Paradiae." 

*'  Ah,  yes !"  cried  Lilia,  "  how  unfaithful  it  would  bd 
of  me  to  have  any  reservation  in  the  dedication  of  my> 
self  to  God.  Why  is  thia  dedication  called  a  sacrifice, 
and  this  sacrifice  called  a  holocaust,  if  I  am  to  cling  to 
anything  of  earth.  But  here,  Dame  Agnes,  is  your 
sketch,  finished  as  far  as  can  be,  considering  that  it  is  not 
t.c  be  a  pencil  drawing,  but  only  to  fumiah  hints  for  an 
oil  painting.  If  we  remain  some  days  at  Naples,  I  can, 
with  p'enr'aaion,  finish  the  solitude  of  the  mount&m 
tower." 

They  had  now  arrived  at  Terracina,  and  were  soon 
lodged  in  the  principal  inn  overlooking  the  bay.  The 
chief  interest  to  the  religious  travellers  that  evening  was 
derived  from  the  pious  admiration  and  enjoyment  of  the 
Lveverond  Canonioo  in  beholding,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
lonjf  life,  the  blue-waved  Mediterranean,  and  they  re- 
joiced  the  more  in  thia  recreative  occupation  of  his  mind, 
as  he  was  greatly  apprehenaive  of  being  in  aome  way 
molested  at  Terracina  by  the  republican  guard.  The 
fr 'Homing  morning  being  Sunday,  they  all  attended  the 
Canonioo's  early  Mass  in  the  Cliiesa  Nuova,  where  the 
(Tilley  slaves  formed  the  body  of  the  congregation  and 
the  choir.  Our  travellers  supposed  at  the  time,  and 
were  right,  that  this  new  church,  the  nearest  to  the  inn, 
had  been  built  for  these  erring  sons,  who,  under  the  ad- 
mirable discipline  adopted,  were  retracii>g  their  wandeiv 
ing  steps,  and  were  enooun^ed  by  every  meors  to  b» 
come  honest  and  pious  once  more.    The  Mass  even  wtw 


18  your 


v!^ 


■flb^' 


BOm  AND  Tin   ABDKT. 


as* 


lerved  by  a  galley  slave  promoted  to  be  cluunles^ 
rhongh  still  wearing  the  striped  garments  of  disgrace. 

That  same  morning  our  travellers  left  Terracina,  and 
passing  with  but  I'ttle  difficulty  the  confines,  the  barrier, 
and  the  different  custom-house  stations,  were  fairly  in  the 
kingdom  of  Naples.    They  were  not  searched  nor  an- 
noyed even  at  Fondi,  the  chief  town  on  our  way,  and  be- 
fore sunset  arrived  at  Mola  da  Gaeta,  a  spot  become  ever 
memorable,  and  rich  in  natural  beauties.     Our  Pilgrims 
were  conducted  to  the  terrace  attached  to  their  suite  of 
rooms,  whereon  had  stood  Pius  the  Ninth.    The  room  in 
which  his  Holiness  had  slept  was  unoccupied,  from  re- 
spect, but  the  others  of  the  suite  were  assigned  to  our 
friends,  and  they  now  stood  gazing  on  the  still  and  deeply 
blue  waters  of  Gaeta's  bay,  '.vith  the  fortress,  city,  and 
mound  of  the  peninsula  stretched  in  a  line  before  them, 
striking  in  themselves,  and  now  for  ever  sacred  as  the 
asylum  of  the  exiled  Pope.    Below  the  terrace,  and  be- 
tween it  and  the  sea,  were  the  orange  and  lemon  garden?, 
laden  with  their  ripe  and  brilliant  fruit ;  and  to  the  east 
and  west  the  pine,  the  cypress,  and  olive  groves ;  while 
on  the  north  arose  perpendicularly  a  belt  of  sheltering 
rock,  or  second  cliff,  rendering  Mola  as  fiivoured  in  na- 
tural  position,  as  it  was  in  classical  and  sacred  recoiJ. 

The  day  following  the  arrival  of  our  Pilgrims  in  Mola 
was  devoted  to  the  last  and  eventful  audience  in  Gaeta, 
which  had  already  been  anticipated  by  letters.  They 
were  driven  round  the  western  side  of  the  bay  and  along 
the  narrow  neck  of  land  to  the  peninsula  of  Gaeta:  after 
passing  one  of  the  drawbridges  their  passports  were  de- 
manded and  shown,  before  they  could  proceed  over  the 
second  into  the  strongly  fortified  city.  When  once  ad* 
mitted  within  the  fortifications  they  could  perceive  no 


umm 


BOm  AKD  TBI    ABBIcr. 

additional  moats  of  defence  round  the  royal  palace  Ix' 
cepUng  the  gimrds— nothing  that  could  indicate  a  sUte 
priBon  opart  from  the  city.    The  palace  stood  like  the 
Qiiirinal,  its  windows  looking  into  the  square  and  streets. 
ITiey  were  first  admitted  to  tho  Mnggior  Duomo,  amost 
kind-henrted,  active  man,  who  recognised  in  them  the  ex- 
pected  visitors,  received  them  most  cordially,  and  ap* 
pointed  tho  time  of  half-past  eleven  to  be  in  tho  Papal 
ante-room ;  to  which  they  were  punctual,  having  on  their 
habits  of  ceremony,  namely,  the  black  habit  with  train, 
tho  white  cloak,  the  crimson  scapular,  the  silver  crucifix ; 
and  eomlucted  by  their  reverend  friein?  (  anonioo  B.,  who 
bore  for  thein  all  their  oflicial  papers  in  case  that  his 
Holiness  should  have  forgotten  them.    Many  prelates  and 
ecclesiastics  were  assembled  in  the  ante-rooms,  who  re 
cognised  the  venorable  Cuionico,  and  engaged  him  in  dis 
eourse.     Of  course  the  present  position  of  the  Church  was 
the  paramount  theme,  and  the  proud  rebellion  of  Romans 
the  subject  of  many  comments.     Monsignor  Stella,  the 
Pope's  holy  Confessor,  being  asked  if  he  were  a  Roman, 
replied,  "  No,  thank  God !"  and  Monsignor  de  Medici,  in 
some  amicable  discussion,  called  out,  "  No,  no,  I  must 
have  it  my  own  way— I  am  a  Roman,  you  know,  and 
consequently  wilful  (volontario)."     Had  he,  however, 
really  objected  to  be  a  Roman,  the  noble  Medici  could 
easily  have  taken  refuge  in  his  Florentine  descent. 

At  length  it  was  in  order  for  the  English  Religious  to 
enttsr  the  audience-room  ;  the  Canonico  advanced  a  few 
steps  before  them,  and  then,  Monsignor  Medici  conduct- 
ing them  forward,  they  were  once  more,  and  in  farewell, 
•t  tho  sacred  feet  of  Christ's  Vicar  on  earth.  After  the 
toual  prostruion  and  salute,  they  were  favoured  by  kiss, 
idg  the  ring  and  hand  of  the  Pope ;  and  then,  being  rtiU ' 


jUiiMwn  mJjiviijiJMmf^ 


'^^Tl^' 


■Om   AMD  TBI    ABBir.  OTl 

on  her  kneea,  the  elder  Pilgrim  humbly  preBentod  th« 
eopy  of  the  Rule,  in  folio,  which  bad  been  beautifully 
bound  in  white  vellum  and  gold,  with  the  Papal  arms 
stamped  in  the  centre.     His  Holiness  amilingly  rccoiveil 
it,  saying,  "Oh!  cho  galanteria,"  and,  turning  over  tho 
first  leaf,  read  the  dedication,  in  which  Sister  Mary 
Agnes'  name  followed  that  of  the  Mother  Superior's  an 
the  associated  foundress.     He  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm, 
saying,  "Questa  dunque  b  Suor  Maria  Agncse  di  Gesiil" 
Never  hod  the  countenance  of  Pius  the  Ninth  looked 
•o  benignly  beaming  as  during  that  interview :  and  with 
patemid  goodness  and  patience,  his  Holiness,  although 
he  remembered  the  senior  Religious,  yet  looked  over  all 
the  documents  previously'acoorded  in  Rome,  and  prom- 
ised that  whatever  Qirdinal  Fransono  should  writ©  for 
on  their  account  should  be  granted.     His  Holiness  theii 
kindly  conversed  with  Lilia,  and  congratulated  her  on 
the  Heavenly  Grace  vouchsafed  her;  and  then    uming 
to  Sister  Mary  John  of  the  Cross,  and  finding  that  she 
did  not  understand  Italian,  he  exclaimed,  "  Ah  questi  In- 
glef.i,  ecco  cho  restono  sempre  Inglesi,  perch^  non  vogli- 
ono  dire  un  '  Miserere'  che  nolla  lingua,  loro :  e  come  b» 
fatto  1ft  Poverina,  senza  poterc  dir  lo  6U0  miserie  1" 

The  Reverend  Canonico  then  explained  that  in  Rome 
Sislcr  Mary  John  had  had  tho  constant  advantage  of  an 
Eiiglish  Confessor,  and  that  at  Valmontone  a  Confessor 
understanding  English  had  come  at  mtervals  from  Alba- 
no,  a  Missionary  Father  of  the  Precious  Bloo"!,  and  the 
Pope  was  satisfied.  His  Holiness  Uicn  blessed  with  in- 
dulgences their  spousal  rings,  and  pectoral  crucifixes,  and 
the  rosaries  destined  for  England ;  and  the  parting  time 
had  arrived.  With  true  filial  veneration,  affection,  and 
imotlon,  the  English  Pilgrims  again  prostrated  to  kiss 


1 


Ma 


ROMS    AND   THK    ABBET. 


for  the  last  time,  and  under  circnmstances  of  such  odver 
•ity,  the  feet  of  Christ's  Ucpresentative  on  Earth.  Could 
they  have  yielded  to  those  feelings  they  would  gladly 
have  lingered,  but  this  might  not  be.  They  received  tlM 
lost  benediction  and  retired. 

On  passing  from  the  papal  part  of  the  palace,  they 
met  the  King  of  Naples  driving  himself  and  an  iudo-de- 
oamp  in  an  open  phoeton.  The  Religious  stopped  from 
respect,  and  the  King  bowed,  exclaiming,  "  £cco  Mon< 
ache !"  The  Queen  and  royal  children  had  also  arrived 
that  day  from  Naples.  The  follovring  morning,  at  MoU 
da  Gaeta,  the  senior  Religious  informed  her  venerable 
fidend  the  Canonico  B,,  that  instead  of  proceeding  that 
day  to  Naples  she  must  return  with  Sister  Agnes  and 
himself  to  Gaeta.  The  Canonico  felt  and  lookevi  much 
surprised, — ^What  could  she  desire  more  than  had  been 
expressed  in  that  last  interview  by  the  Sovereign  Pon- 
tiff t  He  consented,  however,  and  the  two  professed 
Keligious,  with  himself,  again  presented  themselves  to 
the  good  Maggior  Duomo  at  the  palace,  and  the  senior 
Nun  requested  an  interview  with  Monsignor  MedicL 
.This  could  not  take  place  till  the  usual  hour  for  the  pa- 
pal audiences ;  but  it  would  be  impossible  to  see  the 
Pope  again ;  his  Holiness  had  caught  cold,  and  was  con- 
fined to  his  bed. 

"  I  do  not  request  or  desire  to  see  the  Pope  again," 
said' our  Pilgrim  at  length  to  Monsignor  Medici;  "but 
I  omitted,  in  the  emotion  of  yesterday's  vterview,  to  ob- 
tain something  I  have  inuch  at  heart ;"  and  the  object 
was  confided  to  Monsignor,  who  told  her  chat  if  she 
would  have  patience  he  H'ouid  deliver  her  supplication 
to  the  Pope. 

Our  Pilgrim  had  leorued  patience,  so  had  her  fiuthfiil 


^^ 


oh  aivw- 

.  Could 
<1  glttdljf 
eived  tlM 

ICO,  they 
1  tude-de- 
>ed  from 
!Co  Mon< 
>  arrived 
I  at  MoIa 
'enerable 
ding  that 
^08  and 
ed  much 
iiad  been 
ign  Pon- 
>roressed 
lelves  to 
e  senior 
Medici, 
r  the  pa- 
see  the 
was  oon- 


si;  "but 

HT,  to  0b> 

e  object 
t  if  she 
plication 

-fiuthfiil 


BOMB  AKD  THI  ABBIT. 


399 


eompanions ;  besides,  it  was  to  neither  very  pcnitentia- 
to  sit  again  quietly  in  the  ppi'.l  ante-room  at  Gaeta,  and 
hear  and  watch  so  much  of  reul  interest  to  the  Catholic 
world.    Again  they  saw  Cardinal  Antonelli,  whose  intel- 
lectual yet  meek  look,  and  whose  humble  manner  of  r©. 
cciving  their  respect,  reminded  them  of  the  lamented 
Cardinal  Acton ;  and  for  the  first  time  thoy  saw  the  new 
Cardii  1— a  striking  contrast— whose  premature  presen- 
tation of  her  rescript,  when  Monsignor  Vizzadelll,  acting 
as  second  to  Cordinal  Ferretti,  had  run  the  risk  of  a 
mysterious  failure,  which  a  timely  personal  interview 
with  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Ferretti  had  averted :  and 
silently  blessing  God  for  all  the  courage  and  perscveranc* 
He  had  vouchsafed  her,  she  also  continu'^  to  pray  that 
these  gifts  might  endure  to  the  end.     By  her  side  in  the 
papal  ante-room  stood  a  Brother  of  tlie  Christian  Doo- 
trine,  who  had  passed  the  last  two  years  in  Italy,  at 
Soubiaco  and  Monte  Casino,  preparatory  to  founding,  in 
his  native  diocess  in  France,  an  institute  based  on  tb-; 
ancient  rule  of  Saint  Benedict.    The  similarity  of  their 
object  in  coming  to  Italy  and  to  Gaeta  produced  an  in- 
teresting conversation  between  these  two  Religious  and 
the  promise  of  mutual  prayers.    Our  Pilgrim  twice  ob- 
aeived  Monsignor  Medici  looking  out  rapidly  from  the 
Inner  room  to  ascertain  the  state  of  hor  patience ;  and  the 
next  treat  sent  her  was  the  discourse  of  the  meek  and 
holy  Monsignor  Stella,  the  Pope's  G)nfe88or.    Towards 
him  the  heart  of  the  Religious  I'ilgrlm  had  immedirtely 
expanded ;  and  she  now  felt,  gratefViUy  touched  that  he 
sought  her  again,  and  in  a  low  tone  of  voice  continued  to 
advise  and  strengthen  her.    He  willingly  accepted  lief 
oorid^pondence,  and  gave  her  a  present  reply  t»  a  deep 
11* 


304 


BOU   ARD   TBK    ABBBT. 


and  aifficolt  question  which  had  not  before  been  snbmiti 
ted  to  him.  Monsignor  Stella,  as  a  farewell  gift,  pre 
senteti  her  the  little  work  entitled  "  L'Amore  di  Gesi," 
with  some  other  late  publications;  and  then,  giving  to 
both  the  Religious  his  benediction,  retired  into  the  inner 
room  just  before  a  message  was  brought  to  her  from  his 
Holiness,  purporting  that  if  she  would  send  to  bjm  a  writ- 
ten petition  for  some  spiritual  grant  tc  her  convent  he 
would  accede  to  her  first  supplication,  conveyed  through 
Monsignor  Medici,  namely,  the  Pope  would  give  her  his 
autograph  by  signing  her  written  petition.  The  fresh 
petition  was  then  immediately  drawn  up  fur  her  in  the 
ante-room ;  and  m  a  few  minutes  our  Pilgrim  held  and 
kissed  the  signature  of  Pius  the  Ninth.  "  Cajete  die  83 
Januarii,  1849,  pro  gratie  per  per  Pius  P.P.  IX." 

After  leaving  the  papal  suite  of  rooms  our  English 
Religious  was  conducted  to  those  occupied  by  the  pious 
and  hospitable  King  and  Queen,  who,  resigning  their 
usual  state-rooms  to  the  Pope,  were  domesticated  with 
their  children  in  a  suite  of  low,  small  chambers.  Tlie 
King,  accompanied  by  the  chief  officers  of  his  staff,  met 
the  Religious  and  their  Reverend  Ck)nductor  on  the  great 
stairs,  on  his  way  to  inspect  the  fortifications.  His 
Majesty  greeted  tliem  cordially,  and  on  their  observing 
that  the  Religious  Institute,  to  which  he  wished  all  suc- 
cess, had  met  with  st  me  contradiction  and  difficulty,  the 
Kir.g  replied  with  his  wonted  piety,  "  That  only  proves 
the  mnre  tiiat  Grod  loves  you !"  On  being  admitted  to 
the  Queen,  who  r"ceived  them  with  equal  kindness,  the 
conversation  was  held  in  French,  and  continued  for  some 
time.  Her  Majesty  accepted  to  be  one  of  the  Bene- 
fiictrrases  of  the  Perpetual  Adoration  in  London,  and 
linmLied  a  present  eoi-nest  of  hmr  good-will,  which  oa 


re  been  snbmit 
ewell  gift,  pre 
more  di  Gesi,* 
then,  giving  to 
i  into  the  inner 
to  her  from  his 
i  to  hjm  a  writ- 
ler  convent  he 
iveyed  through 
lid  give  her  his 
>n.    The  fresh 
for  her  in  the 
grim  held  and 
'  Cajete  die  23 
P.  IX." 
I  our  English 
1  by  the  pions 
esigning  their 
esticated  with 
ambers.    Hie 

his  staf^  met 
>r  on  the  great 
icationa.  His 
leir  observing 
rished  all  suc- 
diffioulty,  the 
b  only  proves 

admitted  to 
kindness,  the 
lued  for  some 
of  the  Bene< 
London,  and 
ill,  which  on 


-^= 


-m 


iOUB  A5D  THB   ABBBTv 

their  arrival  in  Naples  was  conveyed  to  them  by  hel 
Maggior  Dnomo,  the  Prince  of  Cessamare,  and  proved 
to  be  a  hundred  ducats.  The  Prince,  with  equally  kind 
generosity,  took  entirely  on  himself  the  f^xpcnse  of  pr«- 
Bontlng  to  the  Queen  ftom  the  English  Nuns  a  copy» 
beautifully  bound,  of  the  holy  Rule  of  their  Institute. 

On  that  last  day  at  Gaeta,  having  visited  the  cathedral, 
a  pUgrimage  remained  wWch  has  been  but  little  known 
to  even  the   pious  tourist,  and  to  which  our  English 
tiavellers  bent  their  steps  to  render  thanks  for  all  the 
i:iercie8oftheday,andto  do  homage  in  awful  admira- 
tion.   This  was  the  miraculous  cleft  of  an  entire  rock  at 
the  crucifixion  of  the  world's  Redeemer.     "  And  th-. 
rocks  were  rent  from  the  top  to  the  bottom ;"  thus  wit- 
ness  the  Evangelists;  and  three  of  these  rocks  stand  in 
perpetual  memorial  of  that  tremendous  death :  one  at 
Jerusalem ;  one  at  Gaeta.     In  the  chasm  at  Gaota   an 
artificial  flooring  has  been  made  of  iron  chains,  by  which 
the  Pilgrim  passes  to  a  chapel  slung  over  the  sea.     As 
you  pass  down  the  passage  made  by  ihe  chasm,  which  is 
about  four  feet  wide,  it  is  crnsy  to  mark  that  the  inequa- 
liticFi  on  either  side  perfectly  agree  the  one  with  the  other. 
About  half-way  to  the  chapel  is  the  impression  miracu- 
k  usly  made  of  the  hand  of  an  unbeliever  who  scoffingly 
dashed  it  against  the  rock.     In  the  chapel  Pius  the  Ninth 
has  preached  a  moving  and  eloquent  discourse,  granting 
to  that  shrine  many   privHcges.      Our  pllfirims  were 
given,  from  a  concealed  pp.rt  of  the  uiivacclous  chasm, 
some  fragments  struck  i/lT  by  the  Monks  attached  to  the 
chapel,  who  are  a  bninc)*  of   the  Benediotinf>   Order. 
With  this  interesting  but  most  laborious  pilgrimage,  ter 
niinated  the  visit  to  Gaeu» ;  and  by  the  early  eveniog 
following  our  travellers  were  in  Naples. 


396 


ROMK  AMD  TOM  ABBCT* 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

To  be  when  Ood  io  wilb  i<  itosce— k  rwt  s 
Hera  ii  our  home,  onr  bowering  •hellera<i  neat 
Pelrar  our  imtiTe  iiky,  of  mlwr  gny, 
Than  e'en  ItaUe'i  M.iles,  in  golden  ny ; 
Goiter  the  accent  of  the  Briton'i  tongue, 
Kinder  the  welcome  of  oar  horaeljr  thmng 
Thus  aroond  duty  buvo  benign  are  giren  { 
And  barmonicf  I*-  ■   blend  with  tho«a  of  beaver. ', 

Ih  Naples  our  English  travellers,  through  fciie  r.tcooi. 
mendatioii  of  their  ever  maternal  friend,  the  Princess  V,, 
were  lodged  in  the  private  rooms  of  the  pious  widow 
who  is  the  proprietor  of  the  Russian  hotel,  on  the  bay, 
between  the  Chiaja  and  the  port,  called  StrMla  di  Santa 
Lucia.  In  the  retired  part  of  the  house  assigned  them 
tliey  saw  not  the  noted  wonders  of  Vesuvius,  nor  the 
charms  with  which  nature  has  adorned  the  Bay  of 
Naples ;  but,  after  some  days  of  illness,  they  were  con- 
ducted, for  the  speedier  recovery  of  their  health,  to  the 
terrace  on  the  flat  roof  of  the  house,  and  there  beheld 
bpread  before  them  those  deep  blue  waters,  and  the 
moth-like  skifls,  of  white  or  brown,  which  so  uncon* 
Bciousiy  adorn  them.  They  beheld  Capri  with  its  pecu- 
liar outline,  and  the  circling  range  of  mountains,  con- 
taining at  their  base  the  sheltered  villages  of  Sorrento 
and  Castlcmarc ;  and  to  the  east  the  terrific  mountain  of 
infernal  fumes,  rising  above  the  unmitigated  whiteness 
of  Portici.  The  weather  had  on  their  first  arri  ral  been 
cold  and  stormy,  but  was  succeeded  by  days  of  QJoud- 
less  sunshuie,  such  as  they  had  enjoyed  at  the  lovely 
Mola  da  Gaota,  and  realiz«d  tha  idea  formed  of  tht 


1) 


A01f>   AND  THK   ABBJtt,. 


S91 


tkvoured  city  of  Naples.    Their  spiritual  privileges,  fiw 
more  impoi-tant,  were  also  greater.    B*.ueftth  the  voof  of 
their  devout  hostess  was  a  private  chapel,  with  perinis> 
sion  for  daily  Mass  and  CJommunion ;  and  in  the  r-  ?in 
next  to  their  suite  lived  a  highly  ftvoured  being,  a  Ter- 
oian  Nun  of  the  strict  branch  cf  the  Franciscan  Order, 
called,  from  Saint  Peter  of  Alcantara,  an  Alcantarina. 
She,  liaving  rec->ived  permission   from   her  Superiors 
and  Spiritual  Directors,  had  taken  up  her  abode  in  the 
house  of  the  devout  widow,  and  there  expected  to  end 
her  earthly  p-^nitential  course.     Like  the  holy  founder  of 
the  Franciscan  Order,  and  several  of  his  spiritual  chil- 
dren.  Sister  Mary  Francis  of  Jesus  had  received  the 
marks  of  the  sacred  wounds ;  and  this  great  privilege 
privately  made  known  to  our  English  Pilgrims,  was  also, 
by  Divine  P  jvidence,  pennittei  to  be  confirmed  to 
ihem  by  thp  testimony  of  their  senses.    To  Lilia  appear- 
ed the  Sftcred  Stigmat  on  the  back  of  one  of  the  Nun's 
hands,  usually  covered  by  mittens.    To  Sister  Agnes,  in 
the  parting  embrace,  when,  inexplicably  to  herself,  she 
foimd  that  her  thumb  and  one  of  her  fingers  had,  on 
each  side  of  the  Alcantarina's  hand,  entered  the  miracu- 
lous  wound.     To  the  elder  Pilgrim,  when  one   night 
vfT'iring  to  apply  leeches  to  the  side  of  Maria  Francesca, 
Uio  Reverend  O>nfessor,  in  conducting  her  to  the  siok- 
locrii,  (iesirec^  her,  when  performing  that  act  of  charity, 
io  hi  hoid  the  Sacred  Wound  on  the  heart    In  the  de- 
U  La' uf  administering  to  the  sufferer  our  Pilgrim  had 
fomofen  this  expected  privilege,  when  the  Confessor, 
wh'>  tat  near  the  door,  called  to  his    Penitent  to  be 
•ktddieot  to  his  wishes,  and  die,  immediately  removing 


•r 


S08 


ROUS    AND  TU8   ABBCT. 


her  hand  and  night-dress,  a  long  deep  wound,  sctruely 
healed,  .ip|>eared  on  the  left  side  of  the  Neapolitan  Reli 
giouR,  which  the  English  Nun  contemplated  with  gr»i 
titude  and  awe. 

The  Ecclesiastical  Protector  of  our  English  Reli^:ns, 
Cardinal  Franaonc,  was  in  Naples  during  the  whole  time 
of  their  detention  there.  His  Eminence  was  lodged 
with  ho  Oratorianp  of  Saint  Philip  Neri,  and  at  first  con. 
fined  '  lis  wa  by  illness ;  but,  happily  for  them  and 
for  th(  C  revived,  and  first  met  liem  at  the  Con- 

vent of  uu  v->:y  Sisters,  after  a  long  ceremony,  or 
rather  series  of  ceremonies,  which  he  performed  with  his 
wonted  most  edifying  devotion  and  exactnosa,  aiid  which 
was  the  more  striking  from  the  chief  object  being  a  little 
English  girl  of  ten  years  of  age,  who  on  that  day  made 
her  abjuration  of  Protestanti- n,  was  conditionally  bap- 
tized, confirmed,  and  admitted  to  her  first  Communion 
by  the  aged  and  apparently  dying  Saint — for  so  wo  may 
fearlessly  term  his  Eminence  Cardinal  Fransone.  oii 
that  day,  February  the  2nd,  being  the  Purification  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  Cardinal  Fran  x)ne  delivered  to 
the  Senior  English  Ileligious,  his  official  letter  of  recom- 
mendation, as  Head  of  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith,  to 
the  Vicar  Apostolic  of  the  London  District,  aoooropanied 
by  his  injunction  to  proceed  immediately  to  England. 
The  poor  Pilgrims  desired  in  all  obedience  so  to  do,  but 
fresh  illness  to  themselves,  and  fresh  insurreotions  in 
Paris,  detained  them ;  and  these  detentions  appeared  to 
the  Senior  Religious  to  be  so  evidently  those  of  Divine 
Pi  evidence,  that  she  ventured  to  plead  that  belief  when 
hit  Eminence  paid  them  a  visit,  partljr  in  anxious  affe^ 


■:[ 


% 


r 


r0? 


ftOHX   AND  THK  ABIWr. 


891 


Hon,  partly  in  displeasure  that  they  still  lingered  on  th« 
disturbed  continent.  His  Eminence  accepted  the  rea« 
sons  humbly  submitted  by  the  Religious ;  and  after  soma 
further  private  discourse,  visited  Lilia  and  Sister  Mary 
John  in  their  sick  beds,  and  imparted  to  the  Senior  Nun 
that  the  reputation  of  sanctity,  and  the  favours  vouch* 
bafed  the  Alcantarina  in  that  house  had  long  been  known 
to  him,  and  that  he  should  like  much  to  converse  with 
her.  This  commission  executed,  the  Cardinal  proceeded 
to  the  sick  room  of  the  Neapolitan  Nun,  afVer  which, 
giving,  as  all  felt  it  to  be,  his  last  benediction,  his  Emi- 
nence left  them,  and  our  Pilgrim  ascended  to  the  soli- 
tude of  the  high  terrace,  to  breathe  pure  air,  and  muse 
alone  on  the  mysteries  that  surrounded  her  return  to  her 
native  land. 

It  was  on  the  1 6th  of  that  month  of  February,  that 
Deing  again,  with  Lilia  for  her  companion,  on  that  ter- 
race, vainly  expecting  the  French  steamer  to  enter  the 
harbour  from  Malta,  on  its  way  to  Marseilles,  they  dis- 
coursed on  the  kindness  they  had  met  with,  and  the  edi- 
fication given  them  both  by  clergy  and  laity  at  Naples. 
They  spoke  of  the  two  dedicated  daughters  of  their 
hostess,  of  her  young  son  aspiring  to  the  Priesthood,  of 
the  hoi}  Alcantarimi,  and  lastly  of  the  Religious,  cele- 
brated throughout  Italy  by  her  works,  which  may  be 
called  miraculous,  and  the  almost  daily  communications 
made  her  by  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  by 
angels,  and  even  by  the  Lord  of  all  Saints  and  Angels, 
tkia  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  To  this  servant  of  God,  who  la 
tlio  Mother-Superior  of  a  Religious  Community  devoted 
k>  the  instruction  of  poor  girls,  our  English  Pilgrinu 


naWMMMM 


X 


400 


ROMK  AND  TBS   ABBXT. 


were  already  known  through  mutual  friends,  and  th^ 
had  heard  Mass,  received  Holy  Communion,  and  visited 
the  Holy  "  Maria  Louisa"  the  day  following  their  ar 
rival  in  Naples.  They  had  there  seen  the  rooms  devoted 
to  the  Princess  Zeneide  V.  as  benefactress  to  that  Com 
munity,  to  which,  a  few  weeks  after,  the  two  Princesses 
arrived  from  Rome,  not  fearing  any  personal  danger 
but  wishing  to  give  a  public  testimony,  as  the  Priuco 
and  Princess  of  Valmontone  had  done,  of  their  fidelity 
to  the  Pope,  and  disapproval  of  the  ungrateful  rebellion 
of  his  Roman  sons.  After  thus  discoursing  with  Lilio, 
our  elder  Pilgrim  walked  alone  in  thought  and  prayer, 
recalling  her  visit  to  the  cathedral  of  Saint  JanuaHu::, 
where  are  deposited  the  remains  of  Cardinal  Acton  ;  and 
th"  n  pond  ring  on  the  various  heavenly  communications 
mado  to  Sister  Agnes,  in  connection  with  their  religious 
Institute ;  when,  as  she  gazed  on  the  beautiful  bay  and 
mountains  before  her,  there  appeared,  round  the  head- 
land of  the  Campanclla,  the  long  desired  steamer  making 
its  steady  way  into  the  bay  and  port. 

"  Eccolo !"  exclaimed  Lilia  at  the  same  moment ;  and 
remembering  that  four  hours  was  the  brief  time  lor  final 
preparation,  they  hastened  to  announce  the  good  news  to 
their  Sisters  and  to  Miss  Graham. 

A  letter  from  Ferdinand  Carrington  awaited  his  sister 
on  her  return  from  the  terrace,  the  contents  of  which 
were  almost  equally  interesting  to  each  English  Pilgrim, 
and  which  commenced  as  follows : — 

"  My  dear  Sister, — I  have  just  received  a  letter  from 
my  Father,  reporting  well  of  all  the  travellers,  especially 
Lctitia ;  but  I  have  not  time  to  give  you  all  his  news, 


^ 


-0^- 


KOHK  ARO  THE  ABBKT. 


401 


M  I  have  a  piece  of  news  of  my  own,  which  entirely  oo- 
cupies  my  mind,  and  has  been  a  secret  from  all  but 
Lilia,  until  I  was  certain  of  having  my  Father's  permis. 
sion  to  act  as  I  wished.     In  this  last  letter  just  received 
he  does  give  his  consent,  so  hero  is  my  news.     I  have 
been  left,  independently  of  my  Father,  a  certain  property 
in  London,  which  was  once  monastic,  and  can  be  restor- 
sd  to  its  original  destination :  Lilia  will  give  you  the  de- 
tails.   The  old  cousin  who  has  left  me  this  property 
stipulates  that  I  become  of  age  at  eighteen,  of  which  I 
want  only  one  year,  and  then  I  can  formally  make  over 
to  you  this  London  Abbey,  with  its  gardens,  &c.    Should 
I  die  in  tiie  interval,  you  will  step  in  still  more  easily, 
as  you  are  named  in  Mrs.  Haggerstone  Carrington's  will 
as  the  next  in  succession,  for  she  passed  over  my  Father 
without  ever  mentioning  why  she  did  so.    Well !  I  do 
not  know  that  I  have  anything  more  to  say,  except*  g 
that  I  have  been  staying  at  Sedgemoor  Priory,  with 
some  other  fellows  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  had  to 
make  out  my  Catholic  duty  at  Bumleigh  as  well  as  I 
could  by  myself,  where  I  saw  poor  old  Mrs.  Moss,  who 
kept  me  listening  to  long  stories  of  old  days  now  passed, 
and  asked  me  where  you  were  to  be  in  England,  as  the 
time  must  be  drawing  near  for  your  return.    And  tell 
Lilia  that  at  Sedgemoor  Lord  Hungerford  has  three 
daughters,  who  are  to  be  co-heiresses,  and  are  all  very 
pretty.    The  eldest  is  thought  the  handsomest,  perhaps 
because  she  is  to  be,  what  they  term.  '  made  an  eldest 
SOL    jf,'   and,   besides   having   more   fortune,  will  be 
Countess  of  Hungerford  in  her  own  ri^ht ;  but  I,  for  my 
part,  prefer  Lady  Anne,  the  second  girl,  who  looks  on 


■■■i 


1^^ 


X. 


x: 


.y  IT 


409 


ROm  AND  THS  ABBIT. 


f 
f  ■ 


M 


the  ground  just  like  Lilio,  sings  like  hor,  has  just  tlM 
same  figure,  and  showed  me  the  other  day  a  little  cru 
cifix  which  she  wears  concealed  in  her  bosom.  If  she 
had  but  blue  eyes ! — but,  however,  poets  have  also  sung 
of  hazel,  and,  what  is  better,  tradition  relates  that  the 
blessed  Virgin  had  hazel  eyes. 

"Well,  I  have  only  to  mention  that  Fred  Sinclair 
passed  two  days  here  at  Elverton  Hall,  on  his  way  to 
Saint  Gregory's  College  at  Downside,  for  Lily  has  won 
him  over  to  be  not  only  a  Priest,  but  a  Benedictine 
Monk.  I'm  all  tor.  the  Jesuits,  and  am  very  happy  here 
with  the  tutors.  And  now  good-bye  to  you  all  at  pre- 
sent Willy  Sinclair  and  I  are  great  friends. 
"  Your  afiectionate  brother, 

"FbRDWASO  CARRIKQTOir.** 

While  all  were  rejoicing  and  congratulating,  the  elder 
Religious,  although  deeply  touched  and  gratified,  had 
qualifying  thoughts  and  fears  with  which  die  would  not 
disturb  the  others.  The  Abbey  chapel  had,  during  many 
years,  served  a  foreign  mission,  then  had  been  ceded  to 
the  Vicar  Apostolic  and  his  Missionary  Priests.  Much, 
if  not  all,  depended  on  a  will  not  yet  announced  to  her 
— ^the  will  of  her  new  Bishop,  to  whom  she  was  person- 
ally  almost  a  stranger,  and  with  whom,  from  her  long 
absence  in  Italy,  she  had  not  yet  formed  the  holy  ties  of 
Spiritual  Father  and  Daughter. 

It  was  sunset  when  our  travellers  left  the  Bay  of  Na. 
plM :  by  sunrise  only  were  they  before  the  port  of  €$• 
▼ita  Vecchia,  for  they  had  cast  anchor  during  some  hours 
before  Gaeta.  On  the  fourth  day  of  their  coasting  yoj' 
age,  havug  stopped  before  Leglu>m  and  Genoa,  they  en . 


>Mi«ii 


BOMB  Airo  TBI  ABBBT. 


40t 


tarod  Marseilles,  and  proceeded  partly  by  railway  on  dtt 
same  day  to  Avignon,  and  thence  without  rest  to  Lyons. 
In  that  city  all  required  repose,  and  for  that  purpose  re* 
mained  :  yet  this  projected  repose  ended  in  the  pilgrim* 
age  up  the  steep  ascent  to  our  Lady  of  Fouvidres,  and  a 
visit  (they  dared  not  call  it  a  pilgrimage)  to  the  holy 
Lady  of  Lyons,  Mademoiselle  J.,  witli  whom  two  happy 
hours  were  passed  in  seeing  and  hearing  enough  whereon 
to  meditate ;  until,  on  the  26th  of  the  month,  our  Pil* 
grims  entered  Paris.  In  Lyons  they  had  also  seen  the 
holy  Bishop  Pompallier,  just  returned  from  Jerusalem, 
who  gave  to  three  of  them  rosaries  cut  from  the  olive 
trees  of  Gethsemane,  to  which  are  attached  such  great 
indulgences;  and  also  gave  them  the  welcome  intellir 
gence  that  in  three  weeks  he  hoped  likewise  to  be  in 
London. 

To  be  in  Paris  seemed  to  our  travellers  almost  to  bo 
in  England ;  but  illness  again  detained  them,  and  of  so 
depressing  and  weakening  a  character,  that  the  hope  and 
zeal  attached  to  their  undertaking  seemed  obscured. 
Some  pious  friends  wore  seen,  the  principal  churches  and 
eccli^siastical  dignitaries  were  visited ;  but  the  malady 
hung  about  them,  until,  on  the  0th  of  March,  all  being 
ready  for  their  reception  in  London,  our  reviving  travel- 
lers entered  with  thankfbl  joy  the  steam-carriage  for 
Boul<^ne  and  the  steam-vessel  for  Folkestone,  and  in  the 
evening  of  the  third  Saturday  in  Lent  arrived  at  the  ter- 
minus of  the  South-Eastern  railway  in  the  metropolis  of 
tJKiir  native  land.  The  private  carriages  awaiting  them, 
under  the  direction  of  a  wellJcnown  acquaintance,  their 
fr.end  Miss  Graham's  former  servant,  John  Todd,  soon 


.^««lfHM|i 


w  ;a  T 


i- 


404 


BOMB   AND  Till   ABBIY. 


eonvoyed  them  westward,  on  the  Houth  side  of  tht 
Thames,  to  the  destined  spot  whereon  was  gradually  to 
be  developed  the  vast  resources  of  their  Institute. 

In  the  first  court  of  London  Abbey  two  valued  friondt 
in  the  priesthood,  and  several  funuilo  inmates,  eaine  {or 
ward  with  lights  and  cheerful  welcome ;  the  two  foremost 
bemg  Mra.  Moss  and  her  friend.  Our  Pilgrims  were 
conducted  forward  to  the  inner  court,  now  restored  to  ita 
cloistral  character,  ond,  ascending  a  staircase,  retraced 
their  steps  through  a  long  corridor  to  the  private  entrance 
to  the  chapel.  A  thick  curtain  was  now  drawn  aside,  and 
Ihey  entered  a  beautiful  and  richly  adorned  choir,  where, 
concealed  from  the  pious  congregation,  but  with  a  full 
view  of  the  sanctuary  and  high  alter  of  the  chapel,  they 
beheld  themselves  in  the  immediate)  presence  of  the  Sa- 
cramentol  Mysteries,  and  in  grateful  rdc  ration  wept  with 
joy.  Wos  it  indeed  London !  Caulc*.  so  exact  a  sem- 
blance of  the  Quarant  'Ore  of  Rome  be  really  the  first 
devotion  to  give  them  holy  welcome  on  their  return  from 
their  pilgrimage ! 

"Yes,"  said  their  foithfiil  friend,  Mr.  Terrison,  when, 
after  some  time  spent  in  adoration  and  thanksgiving,  the 
Pilgrims  and  their  now  Sisters  gave  an  hour  to  raficsh- 
ment  and  recreation — "yes,  dear  ladieo,  you  have  re- 
turned, by  the  AUwise  and  Allmerciful  Disposer  both  of 
events  and  of  the  hearts  of  men,  exactly  on  the  eve  of 
the  '  Forty  Hours'  devotion  in  this  our  very  chapel.  To- 
morrow being  the  third  Sunday  in  Lent,  the  adorable 
Sacrament  will,  after  High  Mass,  bo  exposed  as  you 
kave  seen  it  to-night,  but  in  still  greater  splendour.  To 
five  you  welcome  we,  the  CSuiplaina  of  the  Abbey,  hav- 


^v-  J  r^ 


M>1B  AXO  TBB  ABBIY. 


406 


tng  already  {Teparcd  the  altar  for  to-morrow,  placed  the 
Ba<Ted  Host  on  high  during  one  hour.    Now  it  reposes  in 
the  tabernacle  until  the  Adoration,  being  over  in  Spanish 
Place,  will  commence  here.    Yes,"  turning  to  the  elder 
Nun,  "  yes,  wearied  Pilgrim,  take  your  rest  to-morrow 
in  the  immediate  Presence  of  Him,  who,  after  inspiring 
Buch  ardent  devotion  towards  this  great  mystery  of  love, 
vouchsafes  to  console  you  even  here  below.    You  have 
in  your  last  letters  remarked  to  me  that  your  return  to 
England  suffered  delays  and  contradictions  which  no  one 
had  willingly  caused  or  could  prevent ;  and  it  would 
seem  that  Divine  Providence  had  determined  on  some 
one  particular  day  for  your  arrival  in  London 'Abbey : 
now  it  is  all  made  clear  to  you.    During  your  absence 
from  England  great  mental  advance  bas  been  made ;  fer> 
vour  has  increased ;  and  a  vast  genius  holds  the  crosier 
of  the  London  flock.    Let  me,  in  his  words  of  exhorta- 
tion, continue  to  give  you  consolation.    '  The  Spouse  of 
Christ,  ever  wishful  to  rival  the  very  deathless  and  sleep- 
less watchfulness  of  those  eyes  that  sparkle  all  over  the 
Cherubim  around  the  throne  of  God,  has  instituted  at 
different  periods  modes  of  imitating  the  unfailing  wor- 
ship of  Heaven.    In  early  ages  she  taught  her  Religious, 
bi  desert  and  in  monastery,  to  divide  themselves  into 
ohuirs  tliat  day  and  night  kept  up  the  praises  of  Ghxl  in 
uninterrupted  psalmody ;  and  in  our  days— oh,  happy 
and  heavenly  thought ! — she  has  instituted  this  Perpetual 
Adoration  of  the  blessed  Eucharist — of  Him  whom  ia 
Heaven  they  so  worship,  with  us  present  as  truly  as  with 
them.    But  it  is  not  your  Saviour  as  "  the  hidden  man- 
na"  of  which  you  partake,  that  you  have  here  to  rover* 
BDoe  and  love ;  it  ia  your  Lord,  your  God,  triumphant 


^■■i 


ROUB   AKO  TBI   ADBKT. 


Of  er  death  for  you,  yet  shrouding  Ilia  overpower ii.g  - 
glory,  to  whom  you  have  to  pay  your  open  and  solcnin 
homag(> — not  enshrined  in  His  poor  tabernacle,  where, 
because  unseen,  He  is  often  unhonoured ;  but  tnthruncd 
•8  in  Heaven  above  His  own  altar.  Lord  of  His  own 
sanctuary,  centre  of  all  surrounding  splendour,  challeng- 
ing, with  love,  deep  adoration.  Around  Him  shall 
flame  the  hallowed  tapers,  by  whose  pure  ray  the  Church 
Nymbolizcs,  however  feebly,  the  bright  spirits  that  shine 
around  His  heavenly  throne.  At  his  feet  earth  shall 
scatter  its  choicest  flowers,  as  its  graceful  tribute  to  Him, 
that  bloomed  so  fair  from  Jesse's  root.  On  all  sides 
shall  bo  arrayed  whatever  of  richness  and  splendour  our 
poverty  can  collect,  to  adorn  the  chosen  abode  of  Him 
who  hath  said,  "  the  silver  is  mine,  and  the  gold  is  mine," 
and  does  not  disdain  any  token  of  our  reverence.' 

"  Now  it  is  that  you  will  prmitise  that  angelic  worship, 
lost  and  unknown  out  of  the  Ciitholio  Church,  the  wor- 
ship of  pure  Adoration.  For,  beyond  her  pale  men  may 
praise  God  or  address  Him,  or  perform  other  religious 
acts ;  but  they  cannot  know  or  make  that  special  hom- 
age which  His  presence,  as  we  possess  it,  inspires :  when, 
without  word  spoken,  or  sound  uttered,  or  act  performed, 
the  soul  sinks  prostrate,  and  annihilates  itself  before 
Him  ;  casts  all  its  powers,  and  gifts,  and  brightest  orna- 
ments as  worthless  oblations  before  His  altar,  and  sub- 
jects its  entire  being  as  a  victim  to  his  sole  adorable  will. 
When  first,  then,  you  approach  the  place  where  He  is 
solemnly  worshipped,  as  you-  humbly  bend  your  knees 
aiid  bow  your  heads,  let  this  deep  and  silent  adoration 
bs  your  first  act.  Speak  not  in  words,  forget  all  selfish 
thoughts^  repress  even  all  eager  longings  of  your  heart\ 


if 


y 


ROM*   AND  TBI   A.IBCI. 


40f 


■nd  receive  the  benediction  of  your  mighty  Ia  rd  in  so 
lemn  rtillness ;  while  you,  reputing  yourself  but  du8t  and 
oshos  at  His  feet,  a  nothlngnosa  before  Hlm,teatler  Him 
the  homage  of  loyal  vassala,  humbled  as  the  clay  before 
the  potter,  as  the  creature  before  its  God.  Then  raise 
up  your  eyes,  those  keen  eyes  of  faith,  which  through 
the  valo  of  sacramental  elements,  see,  as  John  did,  in  the 
midst  of  the  seven  golden  candlesticks,  one  like  to  the 
Son  of  Man ;  yea,  the  adorable  Jesus,  the  King  of  your 
souls,  and  there  feast  long  your  sight  upon  that  sacred 
Humanity,  which  love  hath  given  Him,  and  with  it  kin- 
dred and  brotherhood,  and  ties  of  tenderest  affection  with 
you.  And  now  speak  to  Him,  but  with  outpoured  souls, 
with  the  unrestrained  familiarity  of  warmest  friendship, 
ftce  to  face — ^no  longer  with  the  awful  Lord,  like  Mosee 
or  Elias,  on  Horeb,  but  with  them  and  Peter  and  John 
on  Thabor,  where  you  see  Him  radiant  with  His  light, 
but  mild  and  inviting  love. 

"  Pray  to  Him  now  for  your  own  salvation,  and  for 
that  of  tdl  mankind.  Pray  for  the  exaltation  of  His  holy 
Church,  for  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  its  supreme 
Pastor,  our  dear  and  afflicted  Pontiff.  Pray  for  the  pro- 
pagation of  the  true  faith  and  the  conversion  of  all  in 
error,  and  especially  of  oitr  own  dear  couhtry.  Pray 
that  Gjd  will  mercifully  remove  from  us  the  scourges 
aiid  judgments  which  we  have  deserved  by  our  sins,  and 
remember  no  longer  our  offences,  nor  tho.e  of  our  p* 
rer.ts,  but  rather  show  us  mercy,  and  qive  to  us  His 
good  gifts,  but  principally  His  grace,  holiness  of  life,  and 
perseverance  in  His  holy  service. 

«,\-d   then,  oh!  never  Onnk  of  rising  from  befort 
Hiia  miJiout  thankuig  Hiir.  Tom  your  hearts  for  tliia 


■a 


■■ 


if 


mft 


wsmmm 


''iliWiiW  WWWtlft  <->. 


408 


SOlOt   AND  TBE   ABBKT. 


n 


n«.. 


miraculous  institution  of  his  power  and  goodness,  this 
sweetest  pledge  of  H's  love.  Adore  Him  now  again  as 
the  treasure  of  your  souls,  the  food  of  life,  ih<»  living 
bread  that  cometh  down  from  Heaven,  your  consoler, 
your  Btrengthenci',  your  sweet  hope  in  life  and  death. 
Speak  to  Him  of  the  kindness,  the  self-abasement,  of  the 
immense  condescension  which  He  here  exhibits ;  of  the 
untiring  affection  for  poor  man  which  He  displays  in 
bearing  with  so  much  coldness,  ingratitude,  and  even  sa- 
crilege, as  this  blessed  memorial  of  His  death  exposes 
Him  to ;  of  the  still  more  incomprehensible  excess  of 
love  wliich  makes  Him  communicate  Himself  daily  u) 
us  frail  and  sinfid  creatures,  as  our  food,  and  thus  brings 
our  very  hearts  and  souls  in  contact  with  His  i  iind 
offer  Him  your  humble  tribute  of  reverence  and  love,  in 
reparation  and  atonement  for  those  scoffs,  contradictions, 
at  d  blasphemies  to  which  He  has  long  been  and  is  daily 
subject  m  His  adorable  Sacrament,  and  nowhere  so  much 
as  in  this  unbelieving  land." 

The  morning  of  that  memorable  morrow  rose,  when 
the  Adorable  Sacrament  was  placed  on  high,  visible  and 
in  majesty  over  the  altar  of  the  Abbey  chapel ;  and  the 
full  functions  of  that  day  of  rest  gave  to  our  happily  re- 
turned Pilgrims  a  foretaete  of  that  perfect  rest  from  their 
earthly  pilgrimage,  where  oil  those  who,  with  &ithful, 
lovJng  and  patient  hearts  have  here  adored  in  mystery, 
ehall  rejoice  in  full  knowledge  and  fruitioi  arouiid  tha 
throne  of  the  Triune  Deity  for  ever! 


Ill: 


not  man. 


•  WjOlir  "Wfl  *►-.'' T«H"WWf-'" 


Igi^^^BiHMBMBWBEiUT^  ir 


d  goodness,  tUs 
im  uow  agaiu  as 
f  life,  ih<»  living 
,  your  consoler, 
L  life  and  death, 
ibasement,  of  the 
exhibits;  of  the 
He  displays  in 
jde,  and  even  sa- 
id death  exposes 
msible  excess  of 
Himself  daily  u> 
1,  and  thus  brings 
with  Bial  iVnd 
ence  and  love,  in 
fs,  contradictions, 
been  and  is  daily 
nowhere  so  mudi 

orrow  rose,  when 
high,  visible  and 
'  chapel ;  and  the 
to  our  happily  re- 
set rest  from  their 
ho,  with  &ithful, 
ored  in  mystery, 
litioi   arouvid  th» 


_J 


TtmrnttiaiuamteiSSiSSeglSBS^: 


